tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38854915270173458982014-01-08T21:19:24.984-07:00Everstuff RanchCritters and everyday life in S.C. IdahoJacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-84088383959613254222014-01-08T21:02:00.001-07:002014-01-08T21:07:39.214-07:00It was a crappy kind of day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">This Tuesday, and last Tuesday were crappy days. This Tuesday I didn't haul near as much of it, but last week was a shit shoveling day. The weather got warm enough that the ground unfroze enough to start pitching cow pies.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lpy0iw7I2Wo/Us4cDV24QwI/AAAAAAAACcI/wljh3PvPYSI/s1600/RoundPen1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lpy0iw7I2Wo/Us4cDV24QwI/AAAAAAAACcI/wljh3PvPYSI/s1600/RoundPen1.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div><br />With the steers up in the round pen getting fattened up for the butcher, there is a lot of poop. We throw straw out for them to bed in and that starts to get wet and nasty and has to come out too. The cow pies are perfect this time of year. Still a little frozen together, clumped in piles and not scattered all over the place. It took me 8 wheel barrow loads to pick turds and wet straw. I started throwing it right out onto the the frozen dirt in the garden. The rain and the snow will soak all that poopy goodness into the garden. What doesn't break down over the winter will be tilled in, in the spring.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b8BrErzUdw/Us4gLx7y8lI/AAAAAAAACcc/Q5c-U-OEhRo/s1600/compost2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4b8BrErzUdw/Us4gLx7y8lI/AAAAAAAACcc/Q5c-U-OEhRo/s1600/compost2.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />The rabbits got their pens cleaned out, new hay strewn in for them to dig and burrow in. The weather warmed up enough to clean out the top of the chicken condo too. I'd only been able to throw new shavings over the frozen bird turds. What a wet stinky mess. The whole top stripped down to plywood, new shavings scattered inside. Only a few birds still sleep in the bottom of the condo so they got their bedding stirred around, wet spots pulled out, and new shavings over the top. The rabbit pellets and the muck out of the chicken coop went onto the compost pile. I know rabbit crap can go right on, but it was on the bottom of the wheel barrow with the bird turds on top.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5lon4XybUeU/Us4cDQzn4II/AAAAAAAACcM/lXXrFq-7YJM/s1600/Compost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5lon4XybUeU/Us4cDQzn4II/AAAAAAAACcM/lXXrFq-7YJM/s1600/Compost.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div><br />Speckles and Chicky got to spend time outside too. Last week was pretty windy so I didn't let them out too long, but Speckles spent the whole time flopping around in the dirt looking like she was having a seizure. She hasn't had a super duper dust bath in ages.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tbin6wjdaH8/Us4b-YpUBAI/AAAAAAAACb8/a7PbTKVSv-c/s1600/Barchick1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tbin6wjdaH8/Us4b-YpUBAI/AAAAAAAACb8/a7PbTKVSv-c/s1600/Barchick1.jpg" height="311" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VAMPy2JVhH4/Us4e1bJqiwI/AAAAAAAACcU/Monq9KDoMpM/s1600/Spekcles1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VAMPy2JVhH4/Us4e1bJqiwI/AAAAAAAACcU/Monq9KDoMpM/s1600/Spekcles1.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-20766383077508701132013-12-17T11:07:00.001-07:002013-12-17T11:07:18.955-07:00Goodbye Charlie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFLRa4slSyA/UrCQg02_jfI/AAAAAAAACbU/sqvLWJ7u6WE/s1600/DSC00480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hFLRa4slSyA/UrCQg02_jfI/AAAAAAAACbU/sqvLWJ7u6WE/s400/DSC00480.jpg" width="400" /></a>Charlie came to live with us when Connie moved in. He was a pain in the ass at first and I was debating how to either fence in the front yard, or fence in an area for the chickens. Neither were really options with our budget, especially since Scott is so anti hillbilly twine. :) </div><br />Charlie visited with us when Connie and Liam came down for one of the get togethers here when the chickens were still chicks. Chasing my little chickies was something that was going to make me find a hole in the lava rock in the desert for him to disappear into. He chased my favorite colored chickie, and got a hold of it. When he went after Fudge and bit him in the face, life almost ended for him when he moved in.<br /><br />He was a funny looking little dog. Mom was Wire Haired Doxie on one side, and Shih-tzu on the other. Dad was something that lived down the street, but I think was something scottie-ish, going by the way he looked. I gave him a funky hair cut with a mohawk, a goatee, and halfway shaved- tassel ears. It looked ridiculous, and I loved it.<br /><br /><br />Having some room to roam worked wonders on Charlie. He mellowed out, and turned into a great little dog. He quit pestering Fudge and stopped chasing the animals that lived here, but he and Ashley were my mighty cat chasers. The strays in the area like to try and get into my trash barrels, but with Ashley and Charlie on patrol they didn't stick around long. He chased voles and mice in in the long grass with Ashley. He followed me on walks into the trees to watch the chickens in the summer afternoons. He still was a rotten beast about coming when you called him to come inside.<br /><br />He thought the steers were his friends. He hung out with me when I took Norman for walks so he thought the big steers wanted to be his buddies too. He was always in the round pen when they were. Now that we're graining them, he was also trying to sneak grain when we fed them. I think that's what did him in. They were trying to pile drive him with their heads, and he thought they were playing.<br /><br />He came inside the other day and just didn't seem his happy self. He seemed like he might be favoring a back leg, but there wasn't anything in his foot. When I got home from work Sat he seemed a little wobbly in the back end, but with the long back he could have just tweaked it. We had to go to Boise yesterday but Connie told me that when she woke up yesterday, he'd lost the use of his back legs and his bladder. She had to take him in and have him put down.<br /><br />Goodbye Charlie. You were a good little dog for starting out such a pain in the ass. </div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-36993274082485956202013-12-13T22:09:00.000-07:002013-12-13T22:09:20.783-07:00All ready for Winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>I haven't been</u> really good about getting home from work with there being enough daylight left to get any good pictures of what's been going on. I took a few crappy pics with the phone this afternoon after I got everyone fed and watered.<br /><br /><u>Scott got the</u> frost free hydrant that was freezing up on us all last winter, dug out and fixed. Teh Boy gave him a hand while he was down for Turkey Day. It's so nice not having to have to have yet another extension cord stretched across the yard to run the hot tape to keep the water faucet from freezing. I still have to drain hoses after every time I run water through it. Scott has taken over most of the morning chores for me and he gets the waters filled for me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4D_Ks5sPkfI/UqvjF15UVxI/AAAAAAAACZw/BSzwt-2pnVI/s1600/FrostFree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4D_Ks5sPkfI/UqvjF15UVxI/AAAAAAAACZw/BSzwt-2pnVI/s320/FrostFree.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><u>Speaking of water</u>, it was becoming a huge hassle to keep the steers watered. It got cold enough that going out and busting the ice off the water troughs wasn't working. They were froze solid all the way through. Dragging hose across Andrea's property, across the road, and out to the pasture, twice a day, then dragging all that hose back, and making sure it was drained so it didn't freeze wasn't worth keeping the boys out on the pasture any more. Now they are in the round pen. We got em moved Mon after I got home. One cord to the front of the house and they have a tank heater. We threw some straw out to keep them off the snow and mud. Norman has some serious fuzz going on.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4Kr-PCqtqs/UqvjOqNoniI/AAAAAAAACZ4/D_2cuhS8lQM/s1600/Cows2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4Kr-PCqtqs/UqvjOqNoniI/AAAAAAAACZ4/D_2cuhS8lQM/s320/Cows2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vr1EeQaW4kg/UqvjO9DgbPI/AAAAAAAACZ8/mtCAMLDmrhQ/s1600/Cows3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vr1EeQaW4kg/UqvjO9DgbPI/AAAAAAAACZ8/mtCAMLDmrhQ/s320/Cows3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>While the boys</u> were down for Turkey day, Mike helped me bring the brooder pen Scotty made for me, back into the garage. It was still out next to the chicken condo from when we moved the second batch of meat birds outside. Speckles and her little chick are in it now, all cozy in the garage. When I bring the water bowls in for the rabbits, they unfreeze, so I know she can keep the little chicky warm. They are out of any draft, and the other chickens, or predators can't get to it. I still don't know yet if it's a pullet, or a cockerel chick, but I'm leaning towards pullet. It's going to have Barred Rock coloring. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4_UtJVO15aM/UqvkXlaFtyI/AAAAAAAACaI/z3NBQpIqS68/s1600/Speckles1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4_UtJVO15aM/UqvkXlaFtyI/AAAAAAAACaI/z3NBQpIqS68/s320/Speckles1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQAFbfWZS6k/UqvkXyXZhrI/AAAAAAAACaM/F2akJqjaKNQ/s1600/SpecklesChick1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQAFbfWZS6k/UqvkXyXZhrI/AAAAAAAACaM/F2akJqjaKNQ/s320/SpecklesChick1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dN0xu2LgkxY/UqvkX_ddmPI/AAAAAAAACaQ/C_rfXDAMkco/s1600/SpecklesChick2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dN0xu2LgkxY/UqvkX_ddmPI/AAAAAAAACaQ/C_rfXDAMkco/s320/SpecklesChick2.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><u>The big chickens</u> outside have their heated water dug out of the garage, cleaned out, and plugged in.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GiziPq-RMhQ/UqvksTON4aI/AAAAAAAACag/r2VlqVJjAzQ/s1600/HeatedWater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GiziPq-RMhQ/UqvksTON4aI/AAAAAAAACag/r2VlqVJjAzQ/s320/HeatedWater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />The ground looks ugly. We had weird weather this year. No rain really or snow to speak of. It was getting into the high 40's during the day, maybe the low 50's. Then BAM, Cold. Down into the negative numbers in the morning, teens during the day. The ground didn't have any moisture to make it freeze. When we finally got snow it was that really dry powdery stuff and it mixed with the dry powdery, sandy soil underneath it. My front yard looks like someone took dirt, and sprinkled white playground sand in it.<br /><br /><u>The ponies have</u> their blankets on and they're off the pasture too. They're in the dry lot right next to the haystack so I can feed easier. Then hop the electric fence and feed Dave's horses.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V4GQgnJCRDU/Uqvl1duaMWI/AAAAAAAACas/4XOgPP8TRHc/s1600/Blankets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V4GQgnJCRDU/Uqvl1duaMWI/AAAAAAAACas/4XOgPP8TRHc/s320/Blankets.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><u>Scott got a</u> good chunk of the firewood bucked up into rounds and the biggest rounds split to fit in the stove.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z1bK477He14/UqvmFoyEkbI/AAAAAAAACa0/yET6N6qUy5Y/s1600/WoodPile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z1bK477He14/UqvmFoyEkbI/AAAAAAAACa0/yET6N6qUy5Y/s320/WoodPile.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The wood rack he built for me last year is working perfectly. It takes me two wheel barrow loads to fill it, and filled it will last me about three or four days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9pp6OvE9kgA/Uqvmb1f7X1I/AAAAAAAACa8/VzuSN0Vu7BQ/s1600/WoodStove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9pp6OvE9kgA/Uqvmb1f7X1I/AAAAAAAACa8/VzuSN0Vu7BQ/s320/WoodStove.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Connie has been working over at Valley Country Store. Scott is still working nights (which I hate) at IMP. I'm still grooming dogs at WindSwept Kennels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-39458949409327147112013-11-17T14:26:00.002-07:002013-11-17T14:26:40.359-07:00I Haza Baby Chickenz!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Actually I have two little chicks. Two little, home grown, my own broody hatched, chicks.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEhwGnMIYh8/UokwnPlSiCI/AAAAAAAACYY/CPlFHf7s0VU/s1600/Broody1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEhwGnMIYh8/UokwnPlSiCI/AAAAAAAACYY/CPlFHf7s0VU/s400/Broody1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Austra White hen, Speckles, decided three weeks ago that she wanted to set that day's eggs I hadn't collected yet. With my two failed attempts already, I figured why the hell not? Sure it's getting to be cold, and there is likely to be snow on the ground soon. Not like any of them are gonna hatch anyway. I thought Tues this last week was going to be the hatch date, and I wasn't terribly surprised when Tues came and went with no chicks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I did remember to mark the eggs this time and I knew she stole two more, so I thought I'd just let her set a few more days to see what happens. Color me giddy when I got home Thurs night and picked her up to peek under her. A little fuzzy chick was peeping under there. It was too dark to really see anything, but today I got pics. She hatched out a second chick Fri morning too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">YAY, /HappyDance</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A3U2i1eFRE0/Uok0gKOENXI/AAAAAAAACZE/D-Z-CAtBD5w/s1600/Broody2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A3U2i1eFRE0/Uok0gKOENXI/AAAAAAAACZE/D-Z-CAtBD5w/s320/Broody2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9Ufy2-upFY/UokzDxNksSI/AAAAAAAACYo/p_Q9l9_gyD8/s1600/Broody3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_9Ufy2-upFY/UokzDxNksSI/AAAAAAAACYo/p_Q9l9_gyD8/s400/Broody3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQfUmUSjF3I/UokzS-Bh0aI/AAAAAAAACY0/Rw-1OS2LF4I/s1600/Broody4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQfUmUSjF3I/UokzS-Bh0aI/AAAAAAAACY0/Rw-1OS2LF4I/s400/Broody4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't have any idea who the baby daddy is. Neither of them have a puff on their heads. The black one does have a little yellow spot. I'm just tickled pink that we Haza Baby Chickenz!!!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-78301518812764370262013-11-03T20:54:00.000-07:002013-11-03T20:54:49.116-07:00Chickens, Fencing, Steers and Horses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><u>I was talking</u> on the phone with my momma the other day and were were comparing chickens. I was trying to explain the breeds and the birds that I have, so I went out and snapped a few photos. The light was fading and I didn't get pics of everyone.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vC9CRLmV1P0/UncRMX8VcuI/AAAAAAAACVw/eDJiokDwvng/s1600/Einstien1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vC9CRLmV1P0/UncRMX8VcuI/AAAAAAAACVw/eDJiokDwvng/s400/Einstien1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">Einstein is bigger than I thought he was. He's turning into a very handsome rooster.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlD3M0FDWMg/UncROXkg3xI/AAAAAAAACV4/semWUSS9Kx0/s1600/WhiteRockRoo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlD3M0FDWMg/UncROXkg3xI/AAAAAAAACV4/semWUSS9Kx0/s400/WhiteRockRoo1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">The White Plymouth Rock Rooster is Captain. I'm super happy with both the boys. Gentlemen, they both are. The White Rock behind him is a hen. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv6AlzEFVWs/UncRQhdvM-I/AAAAAAAACWI/Fk_6dSDkFvQ/s1600/RedRanger1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xv6AlzEFVWs/UncRQhdvM-I/AAAAAAAACWI/Fk_6dSDkFvQ/s400/RedRanger1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the Red Ranger that I just couldn't butcher. She's so big and fluffy.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_RhRkoCPPU/UncRP7w2udI/AAAAAAAACWA/PtJDRavSkXo/s1600/EE3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S_RhRkoCPPU/UncRP7w2udI/AAAAAAAACWA/PtJDRavSkXo/s400/EE3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: medium; text-align: left;">One of the Easter Eggers, the the Buffy Red Ranger in the background. This is the EE that will come over and eat of my hand. </div><div><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SC27rmFbOro/UncRVA1yRNI/AAAAAAAACWg/-_XPVSmNBs0/s1600/EE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SC27rmFbOro/UncRVA1yRNI/AAAAAAAACWg/-_XPVSmNBs0/s400/EE2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two of the other Easter Eggers. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D3wo4HFIfJE/UncRTfHl0VI/AAAAAAAACWQ/Gn2347IvVE0/s1600/EE1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="337" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D3wo4HFIfJE/UncRTfHl0VI/AAAAAAAACWQ/Gn2347IvVE0/s400/EE1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdWgC8AgwzU/UncRUeXhgEI/AAAAAAAACWY/P9-lYTn4CJA/s1600/AustraSpur1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="321" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WdWgC8AgwzU/UncRUeXhgEI/AAAAAAAACWY/P9-lYTn4CJA/s400/AustraSpur1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">This is Spur. One of the original hens we started with. She has spurs like a rooster. Her and the other other black hens are Black Australorps. I was told they were Jersey Giants, but the other birds are bigger than they are. Australorps we decided. All four of them are molting and look terrible right now.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4lHo3dZGIYY/UncRW_vmzoI/AAAAAAAACWo/yTe-ZZRqiYU/s1600/Austra1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4lHo3dZGIYY/UncRW_vmzoI/AAAAAAAACWo/yTe-ZZRqiYU/s400/Austra1.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><span style="text-align: left;">This poor girl doesn't have any tail feathers left. Just some scraggly bits.</span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u>The fence has</u> been working beautifully. Scott did a perfect job on it. None of the cows have gotten out, the horses are happily out on pasture and not eating the winter hay. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q6SWDr8ClGw/UncVz-3nwRI/AAAAAAAACXI/URX3G6PpBeE/s1600/Fence1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q6SWDr8ClGw/UncVz-3nwRI/AAAAAAAACXI/URX3G6PpBeE/s400/Fence1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ben and Fox behind the new gate and fence braces. </span> </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUnqf50Iemc/UncWZep89nI/AAAAAAAACXQ/R6jiF4D6Kd8/s1600/Fence2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jUnqf50Iemc/UncWZep89nI/AAAAAAAACXQ/R6jiF4D6Kd8/s400/Fence2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is the corner brace that gave us such a hard time getting into the ground.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBRmhdig58M/UncTI3A6uMI/AAAAAAAACW0/TArEYK0lcmI/s1600/Bacon1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBRmhdig58M/UncTI3A6uMI/AAAAAAAACW0/TArEYK0lcmI/s320/Bacon1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bacon, the steer, is starting the grow in some woolly hair. He's looking like a fine tasting fellow. Soon we'll bring both the steers back up to the round pen and start feeding the crap outta them, getting them ready for the butcher. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dRDmRFQRXbc/UncTJ-CWn6I/AAAAAAAACW8/hHVZgIxeG9Y/s1600/Steers1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dRDmRFQRXbc/UncTJ-CWn6I/AAAAAAAACW8/hHVZgIxeG9Y/s320/Steers1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Norman was out stuffing himself on grass and didn't want to come out the the fence to get his picture taken. Give him a trunk though, and he's look like a baby Woolly Mammoth. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>I promised Heathe</u>r pictures of the new mare. Here's one of her favorite boy, Ben, too. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gF5UEK6H4aA/UncW5MiDTEI/AAAAAAAACXc/a_iP4MJgAHI/s1600/Ben2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gF5UEK6H4aA/UncW5MiDTEI/AAAAAAAACXc/a_iP4MJgAHI/s400/Ben2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xMTjas0a8uc/UncW5kU303I/AAAAAAAACXo/_-DJ2BN9J4c/s1600/Stitch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xMTjas0a8uc/UncW5kU303I/AAAAAAAACXo/_-DJ2BN9J4c/s640/Stitch1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hancocks Gaelic Fox. Her topline isn't really that funny looking, Ben is hiding behind her and you can just see a bit of him by her withers and neck. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X5WQnqbU7cQ/UncW5PUoTUI/AAAAAAAACXY/8N02JOglpfg/s1600/Stitch2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X5WQnqbU7cQ/UncW5PUoTUI/AAAAAAAACXY/8N02JOglpfg/s400/Stitch2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hancocks Gaelic Fox and Benjamin Brown<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kMqZO6fz1t4/UncYDNjcBlI/AAAAAAAACYE/pNdYUwJD5OE/s1600/Foxy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kMqZO6fz1t4/UncYDNjcBlI/AAAAAAAACYE/pNdYUwJD5OE/s640/Foxy.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kGTz4MUjU6g/UncYC-mkHoI/AAAAAAAACX8/g9PmLNfZlD8/s1600/Scott1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kGTz4MUjU6g/UncYC-mkHoI/AAAAAAAACX8/g9PmLNfZlD8/s400/Scott1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott on Hancocks Gaelic Fox</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WerCtK-j9xs/UncYDM4PgnI/AAAAAAAACYA/zTtkBiMDDeQ/s1600/Scott2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WerCtK-j9xs/UncYDM4PgnI/AAAAAAAACYA/zTtkBiMDDeQ/s400/Scott2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott and Fox</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-9433796766807857702013-10-22T21:25:00.000-06:002013-10-22T21:25:48.966-06:00Upside Down Fire, New Fences<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>In my cruisin</u>g around the internet, being and armchair homesteader, I found a link, or a pintrest post, or maybe it came across my facebook, for a fire built upside down. There really is no telling where I saw it. Somedays I've got seventeen different tabs open on my computer and I'm nine subjects away from what I started looking at. I thought for sure that I had posted a pic of the upside down fire I built out in the fire pit in the front yard over the summer, but I have no idea where I stuck it. Honestly, the pics are probably still on Scott's phone because I never figured out how to use the damned thing and send them to my phone.<br /><br />But back to the upside down fire. When I was taught how to build a fire it was most likely the same way every one else was taught. A little tinder, paper, or something else easy to catch fire, then your little sticks in a teepee around the paper. Some larger sticks, then some small split wood, then light and hope like hell to starts burning. You baby sit that for a little while, slowly adding bigger pieces of wood until you have a rip roaring fire. What really happens is you sit there and blow on it, trying to get the twigs to catch. Ten minutes later you're kicking yourself in the ass for forgetting to add larger sticks, and now the whole damned thing has gone out, and you have to start it again. Or you forgot to add the big logs and it's burned to ash and you're hoping there is enough little coals to get the effing thing going again while you sit there and your butt cheeks freeze to the ground.<br /><br />Forget all that. Chuck that whole thinking out the damned window that is probably still open from when you opened them since it was such a nice day out, but now it's 64 degrees in your house and you're dreading trying to get a fire built in the fire place.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g_tgLct9X7M/Umc6NN0Fx1I/AAAAAAAACVE/at1SCbahkg8/s1600/Fire2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g_tgLct9X7M/Umc6NN0Fx1I/AAAAAAAACVE/at1SCbahkg8/s640/Fire2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I stacked this totally bassackwards. Two split logs on the bottom. Crumpled the pages out of an old phone book (See, I'm recycling, reusing...) and stuffed it down in between the spaces between the logs and the walls of the wood stove, and crammed even more in between the logs. Stacked my larger kindling cross way on top of that, and then my little kindling back the same way as the logs. I lit the paper, and walked off and forgot about it. Seriously. I came back ten minutes later to shut the door I had left cracked open because it was putting off too much heat already. The center of the fire had already turned the logs into a nice coal bed. Stacking the kindling on top of the logs leave plenty of room for air to get drawn in and let that sucker start burning.<br /><br />I was so impressed with myself I took it upon myself to share with any one who would listen. Even people who didn't really look like they wanted to listen. Heck, now I'm even putting it out there in that thare interweb thang so people can share with their friends, or just random people walking down the street. Everyone needs to know about this. I should win an award for helping mankind or something.<br /><br /><br /><u>The damned cows</u> are finally back out on the pasture again. I wrote last month <a href="http://rhaige9.blogspot.com/2013/09/bucket-and-jar-score-canning-green-beans.html" target="_blank">here</a> about them tearing through the fence and having to be up in the round pen. We thought we were going to pull out the old tee posts, dig a few holes, make a sturdy corner brace and string some nice tight wire with a ground. No problems, a weekend project. NOT!!! What a pain in the ass, and not even my ass. It was miserable hard work for the guys. Basically I bought a $50,000 rock pile when I bought the land here.<br /><br />The acreage sits on a lava rift that goes clear to Jerome and almost to Fairfield. Little fingers of it branch off and just manage to snag the corner of my property, and then pop up again in the back half. Right where I wanted to build the house originally, and right where I needed to put in those three corner poles in the front.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9lVuBiHX3c/Umc-fMpUimI/AAAAAAAACVQ/vzZTJ9jpTBs/s1600/Fence3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p9lVuBiHX3c/Umc-fMpUimI/AAAAAAAACVQ/vzZTJ9jpTBs/s400/Fence3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />It took Scott and his friends Larry and Pat, six hours with a 90 pound jack hammer to dig the holes deep enough to concrete in the poles. Six hours of them breaking rock into gravel and dust, then Connie and I used a plastic cup to scoop out the powdery crap. Grind, scoop, grind, scoop... Then we had to give the concrete three days to cure before we could start stringing fence. That turned into the next time Scott had two days off a week later. The holes for the new gate went in no problem. Tractor with a fence pole auger, and zip zip.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_9XWoqW15pY/UmdBe4LidFI/AAAAAAAACVc/kMOzOinZtLg/s1600/Fence2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_9XWoqW15pY/UmdBe4LidFI/AAAAAAAACVc/kMOzOinZtLg/s400/Fence2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />The ground up in the front corner never gets irrigated so it's all sand. No conductivity from the fence through the animal to ground. Scott sunk some rods into the ground and connected it to the middle wire on the fence. Now when the cows try and push through they hit both wires and get lit up. The fence meter reads 8k and all the pretty red lights are lit up. They don't try the fence anymore. Every one is getting fat and happy on all the grass out in the front pasture. </div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-42898018478820317442013-09-18T22:56:00.000-06:002013-09-18T22:56:21.607-06:00My shape is round, Green eggs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>I joke all</u> the time. I'm in shape, my shape just happens to be round. It's really not that funny. Nothing is more pathetic than watching a fat girl try and jog. A short, fat, girl. A short, fat, girl in cowboy boots, huffing and puffing up and down the driveway. Up and down the driveway, because nothing is more pathetic to watch, and I don't want to subject everyone driving on the road to the sight. And my driveway is pretty long.<br /><br />I'm not hugely heavy. Not morbidly obese. The is just more of me than I wish there to be. HA HA, I rhyme. I have gained weight though, especially this summer. It isn't healthy. I don't feel good, or feel good about myself. My joints hurt more and more often. The tendinitis in my elbow has been kicking my ass. I get tired easier. I can't do as much outside Work, and I've gotten weaker.<br /><br /> I'm about 20 pounds overweight. My pants don't fit right. My boobs are ginormous and don't fit in my cute bras. Why do they only make cute bras in sizes for people with no boobs? What, big girls don't want to feel sexy too? They're going to be nekkid and under the covers with the lights out before they let their man come out of the bathroom? Big bras come in beige, white, and black. BORING! I want hawt pink, and turquoise. Something with lace. Pretty purple polka dots...<br /><br />Two years ago with surgery after surgery, I wasn't eating as much. I was outside more. I looked pretty darned good. I didn't ride this summer. I sat around more eating crap. Large amounts of processed foods, and high sugar items make me hurt all over. I still eat them. Damn Dairy Queen for having a restaurant just up the road from my work. I drive past it all the time on the way to the thrift store looking for that great gadget or bargain I just can't live without. Damn me for not having any shred of will power enough to keep driving on by instead of pulling into parking lot and tying on the feed bag.<br /><br />I started jogging. Actually it's more like a fast walk with a shuffling bounce. It starts out as jog. I don't get very far before it turns into a shuffling bounce. I'm doing it though is the thing. It's only been three times now in a week. It's about 275 ft down my driveway and a bit longer than that up the dirt road to Dave's pasture out back. Walk a little to catch my breath, and then jog back up to the house. I looked it up on Google maps. I have to do that 10 times to be a mile. I'm roaring and heaving to catch my breath at the end. My legs feel like jello, but dammit it, I'm sick of looking like I do. The only way to fix it, is to do something about it.<br /><br />My short term goal is to jog down to Dave's and then back to the house without stopping. Longer term is to make it the whole mile. I want to work out in the pasture moving irrigation pipe without getting winded. I want to go galloping across the desert and not want to stop before the horse does. I want to feel good, and feel good about myself. Baby steps.<br /><br />What if I ended up somewhere, or in a situation where I had to travel a pretty fair distance? Work is 30 miles from home. Most people think they can walk about a mile in about 10 minutes. Sure. <i>A</i> mile. A single mile. After about 5 miles the average couch potato is looking for a place to sit and rest. They've been walking for about an hour and a half or so, their feet are killing them, their legs are tired. After they've sat their feet are a little swollen, and hurt three times as much after they get up and start walking again. It isn't going to take 30 hours to walk 30 miles. It's going to take three days, being reasonably out of shape. It's time to fix my out of shape.<br /><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SaPDd3Wj3LE/Ujp_aZNunVI/AAAAAAAACTg/ROUvp1Yurtw/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Eggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SaPDd3Wj3LE/Ujp_aZNunVI/AAAAAAAACTg/ROUvp1Yurtw/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Eggs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bottom right and second from the right in the next row up</td></tr></tbody></table><u>I make people</u> laugh by getting excited about little things around the farm. I got to watch a chicken lay an egg the other day. I watched one of the Easter Eggers lay her first egg. I know it was her first because I've seen her going in and out of the condo the last few days like, "I know I'm supposed to be doing something in here. I feel like I should be in here. I just don't know why yet." I've peeked in on her settled down in a nest box, only to get up and walk out.<br /><br /> I cracked the lid on the box the other day, sat down on a bucket and she obliged by pointed her feathered butt at me and popping out the first green egg I've seen from one of my hens. It was a little teeny green pullet egg. I was all excited. I brought it in and showed it off to Scott and Connie. I think they were more excited for me being excited, than they really were about the egg. Oh they sure thought it was nifty that we got our first green egg, but I was silly excited about it. </div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-4204467746272611442013-09-15T00:10:00.000-06:002013-09-15T00:10:09.601-06:00Major fruit score, canning everything in site<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Connie and I started canning everything we could get our hands on the last week or two. I took a few of the chicken carcasses I had in the freezer from when I parted out the chickens we processed, and threw them in my giant stock pot. We let them simmer on the stove top for over 20 hours. Really we should have waited till it was cold enough to simmer them on the wood stove and not use the electricity, but what the heck. I think canned 7 quarts. Four with meat bits we picked off the bones, and three just stock. It smelled so good in my house for two days straight. <div><br /><div>Next was the green beans. Green beans coming out of my ears from the garden. I've never eaten so many green beans in my life. They taste so much more amazing than the crap you get out of a tin can from the grocery store. 7 quarts, 9 pints, and however much I put up in the freezer. I still want to do dilly beans, and battered fried green beans. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>The corn in was begging to be picked, canned, and eaten right off the cob, so last Sunday was a picking, shucking, canning, giant mess on my floor, making day. I think I pulled like 40+ odd ears of corn out of the garden. There is still a bunch out there that wasn't quite ready yet. We de-husked and cut corn all day. Some of the bigger, prettier ears went either whole, or cut in half into the vacuum sealer and the freezer. Some of the cut kernels did too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Connie showed me this wonderful trick to cutting off the kernels. Place a small bowl upside down in a very large bowl. The smaller bowl is your base for setting the corn on. I was shooting corn half way across the living room trying to slice down the cob on a cutting board. The dogs loved it. I don't think Scott was as amused. We canned two runs of 7 quarts, and two runs of 7 pints. It wasn't until almost all the way through that Connie found how to make creamed corn by scraping the cobs with a spoon to get all the juiced and bits of kernel still left on the cob. We got two lots of 4 cups in the freezer from that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday we went to a friend's house that had two apple trees and a pear tree to go fruit picking. We took two rubber made type totes with us and my handy dandy hillbilly fruit picker. I didn't take a pic of mine, but it looks pretty much like this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xex6x_ip0-E/UjVBzcszF2I/AAAAAAAACSo/7n3-0ELP5uQ/s1600/fruit+picker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xex6x_ip0-E/UjVBzcszF2I/AAAAAAAACSo/7n3-0ELP5uQ/s400/fruit+picker.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It worked great. Got all the apples I couldn't reach since pretty much everything a normal height person can reach is about two feet out of my reach. We got a red variety and a green. I ate one of the greens while we were picking. YummiE. Tart and sweet at the same time. I'm looking forward to lots of apple sauce, and pies. I want to try canning the pears. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On the way home we drove up and down the streets of the neighborhoods. First off, I just like checking out other people's stuff. Secondly, I was having a serious case of fruit tree envy. All these people with trees full of fruit in their yard, and most of it was just falling to the ground to rot. Here I am with no fruit trees on my property and they are just feeding the flies and the yellow jackets. What a waste. I drove past a house with three peach trees so loaded with fruit the branches had fallen over to the ground. Peaches all over the ground. So I stopped and screwed up my courage to go bang on the door and ask if they minded us picking their peaches. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No one was home. Go figure. I'd driven by that house prolly twenty times just itching to stop, and never did. Screw it. I grabbed a plastic bag out of the truck and Connie and I started snatching peaches as fast as we could. Really, what are they gonna say? Give them back? There were hundreds of peaches rotting on the ground. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We did the same thing at another house with trees full of plums and plums all over the ground. I did knock, but no one was home. This time they pulled up while we were picking plums in their front yard. I about had a heart attack. Out of this truck is two high school kids, so I walked up and started babbling, "HI! Do you mind if we pick you plums? There were just so many rotting on the ground we thought we'd grab some and cart them off before they made more of a mess in your grass." See, I was doing a public service. Those poor boys looked dumbfounded before the older one just kinda shrugged and said, "Sure, I don't care. We weren't going to do anything with them." Connie and I busted out laughing after they went in the house. What a bunch of crazy ladies we are. Here's they haul though. Both totes are full of apples on the bottom, and plums and peaches on top. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TW2QPhep7XQ/UjVM6Eiux1I/AAAAAAAACS8/KXbNeEUxXEc/s1600/downsized_0913131504.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TW2QPhep7XQ/UjVM6Eiux1I/AAAAAAAACS8/KXbNeEUxXEc/s400/downsized_0913131504.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0q-svOv2d4k/UjVM6Qgw2DI/AAAAAAAACS4/BgWCZpY3uMQ/s1600/downsized_0913131504a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0q-svOv2d4k/UjVM6Qgw2DI/AAAAAAAACS4/BgWCZpY3uMQ/s400/downsized_0913131504a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yesterday was plum day. I found a recipe for plum jam at <a href="http://www.pickyourown.org/plumjam.htm" target="_blank">pickyourown.org. </a> We made 12 pints. Tonight I peeled and canned peaches from a recipe I found at <a href="http://cityboyhens.com/food/canning/how-to-preserve-peaches/" target="_blank">cityboyhens</a>. 5 pints of canned peaches. We still have a lot more plums and peaches to process. I'm outta lids though. Plenty of jars left, I just have to wait till Monday to be able to get more lids. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-82663189822825696392013-09-08T19:27:00.001-06:002013-09-08T19:27:51.042-06:00Storms and Muletape<u>There has finally</u> been some rain here in the desert. A couple of rain/thunder cells have moved through helping with the fires up north, and making for some lovely light shows in the evenings. Gooding is usually in some sort of black hole that makes all the rain clouds skitter away around us to the north and east. Rain coming from the west hits Glens Ferry and sputters out to nothing. I got a couple of nice pictures of the clouds coming in, a few lightning bolts, and the rainbow after wards.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R01Di7rV7Mw/Ui0f3hsA85I/AAAAAAAACRE/WXtzeuJGSro/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R01Di7rV7Mw/Ui0f3hsA85I/AAAAAAAACRE/WXtzeuJGSro/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm2.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4n26B60rJY/Ui0gpr5PVLI/AAAAAAAACRk/4wDF7G93-0c/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t4n26B60rJY/Ui0gpr5PVLI/AAAAAAAACRk/4wDF7G93-0c/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--iTrLMvrRQI/Ui0ga26-EXI/AAAAAAAACRY/zboJ-a8YW1Y/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--iTrLMvrRQI/Ui0ga26-EXI/AAAAAAAACRY/zboJ-a8YW1Y/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vf2FBKXQPrY/Ui0gaeZhKCI/AAAAAAAACRQ/U4B0R3gYY6s/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Vf2FBKXQPrY/Ui0gaeZhKCI/AAAAAAAACRQ/U4B0R3gYY6s/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dk-FdBq0iq4/Ui0g6oEUHoI/AAAAAAAACRo/zTq2ZK7hJYs/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dk-FdBq0iq4/Ui0g6oEUHoI/AAAAAAAACRo/zTq2ZK7hJYs/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a9cV5PVfHSI/Ui0hB6ACsmI/AAAAAAAACRw/C7-Dkw_qY98/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a9cV5PVfHSI/Ui0hB6ACsmI/AAAAAAAACRw/C7-Dkw_qY98/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+TStorm6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been working on a new blog. It's for my sister to showcase her tack she makes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><a href="http://jackofcraftstack.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jack of Crafts Mule Tape Tack</a></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She hand dyes, hand ties all the tack. It's amazing work. I kinda want one, but I can't afford them. lol. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kfUd6dGb34E/Ui0j4sH6jEI/AAAAAAAACSA/j-rfojAx9Wk/s1600/295651_368469953262624_1092207838_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kfUd6dGb34E/Ui0j4sH6jEI/AAAAAAAACSA/j-rfojAx9Wk/s320/295651_368469953262624_1092207838_n.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z8tWORfkopQ/Ui0j9NLSoxI/AAAAAAAACSI/obCgh1CEftc/s1600/avatar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z8tWORfkopQ/Ui0j9NLSoxI/AAAAAAAACSI/obCgh1CEftc/s320/avatar.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BPl4MTbdFSE/Ui0j_AdCRHI/AAAAAAAACSQ/XwYfcz9hUGg/s1600/BlueWhite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BPl4MTbdFSE/Ui0j_AdCRHI/AAAAAAAACSQ/XwYfcz9hUGg/s320/BlueWhite.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br />Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-6533132441503277942013-09-03T20:14:00.000-06:002013-09-03T20:14:40.066-06:00Having livestock means hard choices. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Having livestock means having to make hard choices, they are entrusted into our care. We keep them for food, we keep them for protection, we keep them for companions. Eventually we are going to have to make a decision about them for end of life. </div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We decide when it's time to be butchered, when it's time to move on to someone elses care, when it's time to put them out of their misery, or end suffering. This last week I had to make a terribly hard choice, that many people would not agree with. I had to find somewhere else for Apache, my blind gelding. He was finally completely blind. He may have been able to see some shadows far away, but he was blind. </div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">He was doing fairly well out in the pasture by himself. As long as he didn't have any contact with the other horses, he didn't loose his mind. If we tried to take Ben past him, or off the property, he paced, he whinnied, he tried to plunge around and not move at the same time. It was very sad to watch. I tried putting him out front with the cows. He paced so much he made the front pasture a bog. </div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I put him in the dry lot and fed him hay, but when the winds came, and we get hellacious winds here in Idaho, he freaked out trying to find shelter from the blowing sand. Trying to walk up to him and catch him to put him in the round pen was almost dangerous. He didn't want to listen to pay attention to where I was standing to avoid running me over. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">In the round pen he couldn't hear Dave's horses out back and worried himself into a frenzy trying alllll day and night long to find a way out of the pen. He was loosing weight no matter how much I fed him. He banged into the water barrel, tripped over it, scabbed up his shins. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week the calves figured out the fence wasn't hot down in the one corner. My steer broke out 4 times in one afternoon, even with adding a third hot wire. We had to move all three of them up into the round pen until I can pay to have someone come out and drill through the lava rock just under the soil, and make a new fence corner. The round pen is a good 60 round, but there just wasn't enough room for two- 13 month old steer, one 4 month old steer, and one blind horse. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I put Apache out on the short pasture and in trying to find his way to Ben, he bumped the wire fence pretty hard. It wasn't hot, but it was enough to knock some of the wire out of the insulators and bring the top of the fence down. He got tangled up in it. He managed to get free, but what if he didn't? What if I hadn't been home?</span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">So I called Steve. He's the horse trader I got Ben from. I didn't want to have to take him to the sale. It would have been a terrifying nightmare for him to try and run him through the sale. I didn't want to think about him in a feed lot getting ready to be on a truck bound for Canada when he can't see. I don't have the money to euth him and have him hauled off. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Steve agreed on coming out to take a look and see what my options were. I know what he is. I know the horses he buys sometimes end up at the sale and on a truck with the kill buyer. He doesn't try and hide it. He's a horse trader and everyone knows it. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Steve and his wife came out with their truck and trailer. I got Apache haltered and he got some hands on with him. He agreed with me that he wasn't dangerous. He stopped when Steve intentionally stopped in front of him and didn't say Whoa. Apache just backed off a few steps. I said to him i was being a realist, that I knew he might end up on the kill buyer truck. He told his wife she had a new horse to ride. See what they could do. He told me he'd put Apache down if things didn't work. He wouldn't ship him. I believe him. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div id="post_message_6720573"><span style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, lucida grande, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I cried, I haltered him and led him to the truck. He loaded very cautiously, but jumped up without freaking. I cried some more when they pulled out of the driveway. It was terrible, but it was something that needed to be done before I came home and found him bled out from impaling himself of a tee post. </span></div><div id="post_message_6720573" style="font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-35941511777795082392013-09-03T18:54:00.000-06:002013-09-03T18:54:37.494-06:00Bucket and Jar Score, Canning Green Beans <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pkLuqOf0vps/UiZbXxGwVhI/AAAAAAAACPM/pUEQu6dxGwg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Tent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pkLuqOf0vps/UiZbXxGwVhI/AAAAAAAACPM/pUEQu6dxGwg/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Tent.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u>We camped out</u> in the yard last night, Scott and I. Threw up the tent, had a fire and everything. We really don't have the extra cash right now to go anywhere, or the extra time. Last night was a great night for throwing up the tent in the yard though. It wasn't too cool with the cloud cover. There was clouds and lighting in the distance we could watch through the door of the tent. The new fire pit The Boy dug for us made for a great campfire. We blew up the air mattress, brought out the blankets and pillows from our bed. It was even better than camping since when I wanted a midnight snack I could raid our fridge.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8URJ0wmYvA/UiZcxFm67_I/AAAAAAAACPY/CUTIF3Sx5IE/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Tent2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8URJ0wmYvA/UiZcxFm67_I/AAAAAAAACPY/CUTIF3Sx5IE/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Tent2.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />The only downside is we pitched it right next to the round pen. The steers are in the round pen right now since the fence is down. Whoever said cows are stupid never met my steers. Out of three Jersey steers, My steer from last year, not Andrea's steer, has figured out that the irrigation water doesn't make it all the the way down to the front corner of the pasture. That means nothing grows in the corner.Why the hell the cows want to be out in the corner in the first place, since there isn't any grass growing is beyond be. The ground is all sand so there isn't any conductivity from the fence to the ground, which equals no zap. So now the fence is torn apart, the cows are in the round pen, and come daylight, they were mooooing in my ear. The roosters were crowing behind me in the trees. It was kind of a noisy morning. Wouldn't have traded it for anything.<br /><br /><u>Connie got us</u> a hell of a score the other day. I asked her to ask at the grocery store what they were going to do with their frosting buckets. They gave her all 6!!. They have lids with gaskets so they are airtight. The buckets are 3-1/2 gallon buckets. WOOT!!! I already have one filled with rice, and one three quarters of the way filled with pinto beans. Flour is next. I'm going to keep going back and asking for more. They are food grade and perfect for home storage.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Crl0uPYMMI/UiZ9yM3sUvI/AAAAAAAACPo/hxYyoR2xqEg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Buckets1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Crl0uPYMMI/UiZ9yM3sUvI/AAAAAAAACPo/hxYyoR2xqEg/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Buckets1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xhOFjSZXLNA/UiZ94tW8slI/AAAAAAAACP8/mpQ2GFMCJ8w/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Buckets2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xhOFjSZXLNA/UiZ94tW8slI/AAAAAAAACP8/mpQ2GFMCJ8w/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Buckets2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Scott's friend Pat</u> was going through the storage in his garage and came across a bunch of old jars that belonged to his mother. He asked if I would be interested in them. Heck yeah I would. There were boxes and boxes of them. Scott and Pat loaded them all up and brought them to my garage. I did one whole load in the dishwasher and there are still boxes out there. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M00Ah9q3uLU/UiZ_yXLXD0I/AAAAAAAACQE/olfVgiaR1rA/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Jars1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M00Ah9q3uLU/UiZ_yXLXD0I/AAAAAAAACQE/olfVgiaR1rA/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Jars1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>And last for</u> today is the green beans. I've had green beans coming out my hiney. The stringless beans we've been eating as fast as I can pick them. I have two small batches out in the freezer. I planted two rows Kentucky Wonder Bean. They were supposed to be a pole type bean, but we never put up a trellis for them. They just grew wild all over the place like a chaotic version of the green bush beans. We started picking them last night. I have mounds and mounds of Wonder Beans. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dj3OtnLaUl0/UiaBmuNHzZI/AAAAAAAACQQ/g2silaeYU8E/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Beans1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dj3OtnLaUl0/UiaBmuNHzZI/AAAAAAAACQQ/g2silaeYU8E/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Beans1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />We shelled out some of the beans out of the biggest pods.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dqCezGtKrpY/UiaBugb50AI/AAAAAAAACQY/CGuAV7MSnek/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Kentucky+Wonder+Beans.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dqCezGtKrpY/UiaBugb50AI/AAAAAAAACQY/CGuAV7MSnek/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Kentucky+Wonder+Beans.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then from <a href="http://canninggranny.blogspot.com/2013/06/canning-green-beans.html" target="_blank">THIS SITE, The Canning Granny</a>, I love her site, we canned beans. Seven Quarts, and Nine pints. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R76ILXYQcAg/UiaDBx0jh9I/AAAAAAAACQk/BxAYzEprFyc/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Green+Beans1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R76ILXYQcAg/UiaDBx0jh9I/AAAAAAAACQk/BxAYzEprFyc/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Green+Beans1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-26173373474111971582013-08-22T23:18:00.000-06:002013-08-22T23:18:36.434-06:00Firewood and Hay, Pullet eggs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rhjv5EblnHo/Uhbp25q3cBI/AAAAAAAACOE/eMRepTi6K8o/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Firewood4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Rhjv5EblnHo/Uhbp25q3cBI/AAAAAAAACOE/eMRepTi6K8o/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Firewood4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Last weekend the boys came down from Boise to go help Scott get the first load of firewood. They brought home about four cord for one days work. We use about eight cord of wood in the winter to heat the house.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hqMB667Kng/UhbpzxMbayI/AAAAAAAACN8/APK1x1siekg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Firewood3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--hqMB667Kng/UhbpzxMbayI/AAAAAAAACN8/APK1x1siekg/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Firewood3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oWnt3tYpXcs/UhbpyYuk5vI/AAAAAAAACN0/imgSvjoJrTo/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+firewood1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oWnt3tYpXcs/UhbpyYuk5vI/AAAAAAAACN0/imgSvjoJrTo/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+firewood1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yDgB4ZUsSDc/UhbnKTwvEuI/AAAAAAAACNI/7MQTwaGrh6Y/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>We got our</u> hay for the coming winter the other day. Pat and Larry came over to help Scott and The Boy got pick it up. Leo grows the best grass/alfalfa blend hay around here. I love his hay. He charges a reasonable price for the area and he is so nice about letting us pay it off a little at a time, and storing it for us until we have it all payed for. The guys take the big trailer over, load it, and bring it home and stack it. It takes about two ton or so per horse to feed through the winter until the grass starts growing and we can turn them out to pasture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B-ksUL-zPfs/Uhbt77zao2I/AAAAAAAACOQ/2Okvo6ugasc/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B-ksUL-zPfs/Uhbt77zao2I/AAAAAAAACOQ/2Okvo6ugasc/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DXF5L58gjuY/UhbvJ_h5AcI/AAAAAAAACOc/1wNPnl8Cg78/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DXF5L58gjuY/UhbvJ_h5AcI/AAAAAAAACOc/1wNPnl8Cg78/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m7tfLO3SCq8/UhbvWgRRfNI/AAAAAAAACOs/7-bDDcp6hRM/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m7tfLO3SCq8/UhbvWgRRfNI/AAAAAAAACOs/7-bDDcp6hRM/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Hay3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V4vLTOOUG5s/UhbvYjWSsTI/AAAAAAAACO0/zvE5cRq_xcg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V4vLTOOUG5s/UhbvYjWSsTI/AAAAAAAACO0/zvE5cRq_xcg/s400/EverStuff+Ranch5.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>And now for </u>some gratuitous chicken pictures. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UdcFMp6-sFI/Uhbnjx3oCNI/AAAAAAAACNQ/1Zu6QE4ufAI/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UdcFMp6-sFI/Uhbnjx3oCNI/AAAAAAAACNQ/1Zu6QE4ufAI/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+EE1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little hen likes to eat out of my hand</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ztt5ViHnW9A/UhbnH97UOFI/AAAAAAAACNA/mo-0HxhkgLM/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Eistein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ztt5ViHnW9A/UhbnH97UOFI/AAAAAAAACNA/mo-0HxhkgLM/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Eistein.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9-lF4Ri6Bhk/Uhbnu4RKqXI/AAAAAAAACNY/b0NEuLHetjE/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Plymouth+Roo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9-lF4Ri6Bhk/Uhbnu4RKqXI/AAAAAAAACNY/b0NEuLHetjE/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Plymouth+Roo.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Plymouth Rock Rooster</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>The new Sagitta</u> pullets that we raised up from chicks have started laying their first eggs this week. They are about half the size of the older hen's eggs, but I was ever so excited to see them. I started locking everyone up during the day just to see if they were laying yet, and hiding them from me. On day three I had one tiny, perfect egg in with the big girl eggs. The bigger egg in this pic is actually a smaller egg for the older girls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P8RHpRLF23w/Uhbn97ZUb_I/AAAAAAAACNk/atF-hqhRiEg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+pullet+egg1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P8RHpRLF23w/Uhbn97ZUb_I/AAAAAAAACNk/atF-hqhRiEg/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+pullet+egg1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-78526015682081073762013-08-22T22:34:00.000-06:002013-08-22T22:34:02.329-06:00CornishX vs Red Ranger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well I've been a bad blogger. We finished processing the last of the meat birds a little while ago. Maybe two weeks or so. I even had The Boy take pictures, but his idea of what was interesting and mine were different. Who wants to see the inside of a trash bag full of chicken guts? lol.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1wgFPkWPAUM/UhbiVSX5woI/AAAAAAAACMo/8j3oNlmsV4Q/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+chicken1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1wgFPkWPAUM/UhbiVSX5woI/AAAAAAAACMo/8j3oNlmsV4Q/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+chicken1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scott and Connie plucking</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zL9jBuG9Gzo/UhbibXYsiYI/AAAAAAAACMw/4LNspc9FZMQ/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Chicken2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zL9jBuG9Gzo/UhbibXYsiYI/AAAAAAAACMw/4LNspc9FZMQ/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Chicken2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Connie and Pat plucking</td></tr></tbody></table>I manned the dispatch station. I caught the chicken and did the killing, and bleeding out. Then I took it to the boiling water pot and did the swishing. Pat, Connie, and Scott did all the plucking while I went after another bird. Then over to Larry for the gutting. Andrea was in charge of cleaning off, cooling, and bagging. We did 15 chickens in not too much time. I parted out 8 of them and froze 7 of them whole.<br /><br />I've made a few dishes out of the cornish and the rangers now. The cornish (creepy meats) had much larger breasts and smaller legs and wings. The rangers were more proportionate as a whole bird. The leg quarters on the rangers were a lot bigger and leaner looking. They were great for the barbeque or roasted in the oven. I did both birds in the crockpot and then broiled in the oven to crisp up the skin. They tasted just like the rotisserie chickens you get at the grocery store. The rangers were more forgiving of being over cooked. They didn't get as mushy. Over all I'm very pleased with the birds we raised. They don't taste more intensely chicken, but do make the store bought birds taste a bit watered down. I know my birds were raised humanely, were dispatched humanely, and I know what they ate. No antibiotics, no soy, no growth hormones. I know they free ranged and were happy birds. I'l definitely raise meat birds again in the spring. I'll order a set of cornish x's for the breast meat and the tenders. They were more plump and just overall bigger, and the rangers more for whole birds. The cornish were better before it got too hot outside too. I don't want to stress them. </div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-88081732685003970202013-08-05T19:50:00.000-06:002013-08-05T19:50:56.383-06:00Walking around Pictures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gxk5g2_gQ4U/Uf89W2RT0qI/AAAAAAAACKg/Vt7uPjesf3w/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gxk5g2_gQ4U/Uf89W2RT0qI/AAAAAAAACKg/Vt7uPjesf3w/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden1.jpg" width="320" /></a><u>I had the</u> camera today with me while I was out and about. My garden is actually starting to produce stuffs that I can harvest and bring inside. I've got about half a gallon bag of snap peas in the fridge. The green beans gave me their first couple of handfuls of beans today.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0r1uTBgzXuc/Uf89VyOkFrI/AAAAAAAACKY/CIBeOA-MJ-c/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Gardenbeans1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0r1uTBgzXuc/Uf89VyOkFrI/AAAAAAAACKY/CIBeOA-MJ-c/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Gardenbeans1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greens Beans</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QX4OZeh99-Y/Uf88gpJIzhI/AAAAAAAACKA/Q2Mqmxlez_o/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+peas1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QX4OZeh99-Y/Uf88gpJIzhI/AAAAAAAACKA/Q2Mqmxlez_o/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+peas1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snap peas</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JzuLPZteiko/Uf870TOflTI/AAAAAAAACJs/efzP_moogO0/s1600/DSC00500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JzuLPZteiko/Uf870TOflTI/AAAAAAAACJs/efzP_moogO0/s320/DSC00500.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banana Peppers </td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OTAJFttF1HI/Uf877UlEcbI/AAAAAAAACJ0/b6b8M02gRRM/s1600/DSC00501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OTAJFttF1HI/Uf877UlEcbI/AAAAAAAACJ0/b6b8M02gRRM/s320/DSC00501.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Purple beans growing at the base of the corn</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W7AHScDyP6I/Uf88SH3Q0qI/AAAAAAAACJ8/IGyjXCSXjmU/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+BellPepper1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W7AHScDyP6I/Uf88SH3Q0qI/AAAAAAAACJ8/IGyjXCSXjmU/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+BellPepper1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bell Peppers</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pi-eYe88xBI/Uf88g7e5J2I/AAAAAAAACKM/gUxTFy-5Rwc/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+Corn1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pi-eYe88xBI/Uf88g7e5J2I/AAAAAAAACKM/gUxTFy-5Rwc/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+Corn1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corn</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1qN6uHKL0s/Uf89QLjXwXI/AAAAAAAACKU/SSofLKEkbwM/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+Squashini1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G1qN6uHKL0s/Uf89QLjXwXI/AAAAAAAACKU/SSofLKEkbwM/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden+Squashini1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squashini corner</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><u>I got some</u> good shots of the steers. Norman is a big boy now, full time out with the big boys from last year.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2Z6-aVym1o/Uf9AEamFP4I/AAAAAAAACKw/U-rGjf8DYZs/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Friends1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2Z6-aVym1o/Uf9AEamFP4I/AAAAAAAACKw/U-rGjf8DYZs/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Friends1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you a cow too?</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C2FK8dDY7zs/Uf9BwY2gzWI/AAAAAAAACLI/iRGSLItMd9U/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C2FK8dDY7zs/Uf9BwY2gzWI/AAAAAAAACLI/iRGSLItMd9U/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norman</td></tr></tbody></table><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrASnLdweSM/Uf9BWPQ1WNI/AAAAAAAACLA/VvWNYmvsDOI/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qrASnLdweSM/Uf9BWPQ1WNI/AAAAAAAACLA/VvWNYmvsDOI/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Br-ql3i1nZs/Uf9Cd4K6SPI/AAAAAAAACLU/8dn24SqwcVg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Steers1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Br-ql3i1nZs/Uf9Cd4K6SPI/AAAAAAAACLU/8dn24SqwcVg/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Steers1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FwSEfBBSCP8/Uf9ChRKkDBI/AAAAAAAACLc/0LMukSjQ66Q/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Steers2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FwSEfBBSCP8/Uf9ChRKkDBI/AAAAAAAACLc/0LMukSjQ66Q/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Steers2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><span id="goog_1991051981"></span><span id="goog_1991051982"></span><u>And I got</u> Chicken pictures for Carolyn. I read back and counted days, and this week the Red Rangers are 12 weeks old. Pete at the feed store, told me about 8-10 weeks. I could have easily started butchering a week or two ago.I free ranged these, and restricted their feed just like I did the creepy meats. They were more active, but now their legs are getting to be giant tree trunks. They are molting and look bad, lol. I went out there the other morning and it looked like a chicken had exploded inside the chicken house. Some of the roosters are getting down right huge. I did process three last week, three of the bigger ones. I was joking last time we did them, that I found their nuts way up in there, and they were tiny. these three were not tiny.<br /><br />So in this pic is Einstein the polish crested on the left. The little grey bird is an easter egger that is a week younger. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3rSUeYoyjc/Uf9EhUq8cmI/AAAAAAAACMQ/pZootRJQu0Y/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P3rSUeYoyjc/Uf9EhUq8cmI/AAAAAAAACMQ/pZootRJQu0Y/s640/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />This pic is two Ranger roos, a White Plymouth Rock roo, and a 4 year old Jersey Giant hen. I was told it was a JG at any rate.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1KASKORqGyk/Uf9EXISTFQI/AAAAAAAACMI/7DjF8MpENMQ/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1KASKORqGyk/Uf9EXISTFQI/AAAAAAAACMI/7DjF8MpENMQ/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Ranger hen, Easter Egger on the pan, and another Ranger hen. They are easily the same size as the Jerseys, and as big as the White rock roo that is like 4 weeks older.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2HP2o4fafk0/Uf9Dn-qYbeI/AAAAAAAACL4/ovptqQvE6Sk/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2HP2o4fafk0/Uf9Dn-qYbeI/AAAAAAAACL4/ovptqQvE6Sk/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+RedRanger2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-34432269129720220462013-07-31T22:13:00.001-06:002013-07-31T22:13:37.758-06:00New friends on the farm, Squashini<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DsPFeeTc-3I/UfnbSindrjI/AAAAAAAACIo/EP3yd5iMgAc/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DsPFeeTc-3I/UfnbSindrjI/AAAAAAAACIo/EP3yd5iMgAc/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Norman is officially a grass calf. I had to go around and lower about half the insulators on the fence so the little weasel couldn't get under them. We did a lot of maintenance on the fence too over the last week. Trees, shrubs, brush, some downed branches, a few places where the wind had blown the braided wire into the old barbed wire fence. Each little spot was a power drain and made the fence hit not as hard. It's rocking 8k on the little light up meter now. When we first put Norman out it didn't zap hard enough to keep him from going under it. It sure does now though. The horses had been zapped enough when it was still really hot to not want to go anywhere near it when they had plenty of tall green grass to nosh on.<br /><br />The two steers from last year finally got moved out to the front pasture. It was a total anticlimatical, non-event. I really expected to take down the fence over at Andrea's and have them run out, tails in the air and act like wild yabangies. They didn't. Andrea's steer did a little bolt, but I had Norman on a leash in front of him a ways, and he just followed us into the pasture. The other calf hung back, just outside the gate, and after walking Norman back, he followed with just a little pressure of someone walking behind him.<br /><br />Andrea's weimer, Loki had to go check them out, and the silly cows let him chew on their little bud horns.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BrXjS65W35M/UfndHgdjwWI/AAAAAAAACI4/nQV47jBrhm4/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BrXjS65W35M/UfndHgdjwWI/AAAAAAAACI4/nQV47jBrhm4/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2v_Rc11aX08/UfndJb6_vfI/AAAAAAAACJA/hps7BckBp2M/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2v_Rc11aX08/UfndJb6_vfI/AAAAAAAACJA/hps7BckBp2M/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v4G_lQrKai4/UfndK9HmpsI/AAAAAAAACJI/3xIdGTNGbms/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v4G_lQrKai4/UfndK9HmpsI/AAAAAAAACJI/3xIdGTNGbms/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Jersey+Steers4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Norman does not like them. He doesn't know he's a calf. He thinks he's a pet that lives next to the house. He did a little bit of hollering the first couple nights. He runs when they come near him. I've had both Ben and Apache out with them. The lighter steer tried humping Ben. Silly cows. They hump anything. <br /><br />After all the squash and zucchini I pulled out of the garden last year and didn't eat, I told myself I wasn't going to plant any this year. Scott talked me into one little pot of zucchini with four little sprouts in it. No yellow squash though. Yeah right. I was kicking the stuff open last year after the plants died to frost, so the chickens could eat the insides. Scott tilled everything up so nice and pretty for me this spring. I have a corner in the back where the corn is that is now over run with yellow squash and "squashini". It is the shape of a zucchini, but a very pale green. It has to be stuff that got cross pollinated with the yellow or the crooked neck squash from last year. It's tasty though.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mD1t2RAYT0/Ufne3ChDanI/AAAAAAAACJY/656lbbQgkNE/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Squashini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mD1t2RAYT0/Ufne3ChDanI/AAAAAAAACJY/656lbbQgkNE/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Squashini.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The second batch of meat birds are well past big enough to process. It's just finding the time to do it. I'm working 6 and 7 days a week right now with summer shave down season, and helping the 4H kids get their dogs ready to the fair. I did three roos the Sunday while everyone else left for Pocatello to get the rest of Connie's stuff. Scott and I should both be off Teusday next week. I think we're going to have a marathon chicken butchering day. Andrea, Connie, and Liam can all help. </div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-6433294095753471512013-07-09T23:28:00.001-06:002013-07-09T23:28:36.269-06:00Everything's Growing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The garden is growing weeds faster than I can snatch them out of the ground. The corn is growing even if it looks like a drunkard on a three day binge put it in the ground. I'd take pics to prove that the strawberries have taken off like crazy this year, but the older chickens eat them before I get a chance to see them. I keep telling myself I'm going to go out there and put wire around the berries, but I never remember till it's after dark.<br /><br />My second batch of meat birds are getting closer and closer to processing time. The roos are all battling with each other. They start with the beak to beak stare down, hackles raised and then one jumps at the other. I swear that sometimes the stare downs last longer than the fights. I keep calling this batch the Red Meats instead of the Creepy Meats. They still swarm me in the morning, but I don't expect the ground to shake as they all run towards me. There is a lot less lumbering as they run. They actually run instead of waddle. Before it got so blessed hot they actually did much more ranging around looking for food than the Creepy Meats.<br /><br />My first batch of pullets that I picked up with the Creepy Meats look like full grown chickens now. They are 12 weeks old now. One of the Sagitas is a rooster. One of the White Plymouth Rocks is a rooster too. The Sagita has been giving me the stink eye recently, lowering his head at me just a little, and generally not getting out of my way when I wander on through the herd. I think he's gonna be a freezer camp candidate. I call him and the first batch of pullets the Marauders. Four Sagita pullets, one Austra White, one White Plymouth pullet, and the two roos all tend to hang out together. They bully the Red Meats, eat first, and range further than the other chicks. The Sagita roo is right there watching me and making sure I'm not picking on His chicks to push around though. Some where around four more weeks to go before I can start looking for eggs from the Marauder pullets.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcOPsNxETE/UdzqUgJRTcI/AAAAAAAACGs/VRlpWdxcpdw/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Austra+White+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Austra White Pullet" border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rHcOPsNxETE/UdzqUgJRTcI/AAAAAAAACGs/VRlpWdxcpdw/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Austra+White+1.jpg" title="Ever Stuff Ranch" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Austra White Pullet</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8cQNv1HMiO0/UdzqbLgvHfI/AAAAAAAACG0/2xOmJkp2Z4o/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+DustBath1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8cQNv1HMiO0/UdzqbLgvHfI/AAAAAAAACG0/2xOmJkp2Z4o/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+DustBath1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jersey Giant hen taking a dust bath</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4aBl3Rkl-gI/Udzqdbtb6TI/AAAAAAAACG8/cohQNTM3RtQ/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Dust+Bath+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4aBl3Rkl-gI/Udzqdbtb6TI/AAAAAAAACG8/cohQNTM3RtQ/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Dust+Bath+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Plymouth Rock Rooster Dust Bathing</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The Easter Eggers (EE) have all their feathers in. I have two darks, one with a grey head, and one with an orange and black head. There are two white with red barring. One with a grey head and one with an orange head. Those two are my favorite colored chickens. The EE's are so hard to tell rooster from pullet. They have little bitty combs, and no waddles. The muffs they get under their beaks remind me of owls for some reason. They are much smaller than the Sagitas and the Jerseys, but not a tiny as the little Cochin Banty.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HAGgUnrFssQ/Udzr0eY7lzI/AAAAAAAACHM/6T4oWEkH5mU/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Banty++1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Banty pullet" border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HAGgUnrFssQ/Udzr0eY7lzI/AAAAAAAACHM/6T4oWEkH5mU/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Banty++1.jpg" title="EverStuff Ranch" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OPjhu1ZXSfU/Udzr3_KqcOI/AAAAAAAACHU/pORgmUU1AqY/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Easter Egger Pullet" border="0" height="370" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OPjhu1ZXSfU/Udzr3_KqcOI/AAAAAAAACHU/pORgmUU1AqY/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+EE1.jpg" title="EverStuff Ranch" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MI-nd1aidwg/Udzr638ScrI/AAAAAAAACHc/j5MWn9by4Mc/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Easter Egger Pullets" border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MI-nd1aidwg/Udzr638ScrI/AAAAAAAACHc/j5MWn9by4Mc/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+EE2.jpg" title="EverStuff Ranch" width="400" /></a></div><br />The other groomer I work with started chicks this year with her kids for 4H. One of the Polish Cresteds turned out to be a rooster. I brought him home with me today. I really wanted a fuzzy headed chicken when I was in a chick buying frenzy earlier this year. They aren't super good layers, and I didn't want to get a chicken I was going to feed just to look silly. I knew out of the 6 straight run chicks Shelly got, that one was bound to be a roo, and I just needed to bide my time. He's a little guy with a mop of feathers on his head. I have him in with the banty and the ee's for now. they're all his size.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHO0mMqkORU/UdzuBrQGL6I/AAAAAAAACIE/xC2PJmm9kwM/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Polish+Rooster1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZHO0mMqkORU/UdzuBrQGL6I/AAAAAAAACIE/xC2PJmm9kwM/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Polish+Rooster1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ol43nj1TAGo/Udzt-uNsmeI/AAAAAAAACH4/DdWnvTZZdJA/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ol43nj1TAGo/Udzt-uNsmeI/AAAAAAAACH4/DdWnvTZZdJA/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1cwk5bRwIN4/UdzuB2AmqWI/AAAAAAAACII/d1jCivv9S5c/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1cwk5bRwIN4/UdzuB2AmqWI/AAAAAAAACII/d1jCivv9S5c/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5dE_Zs2XXW0/Udzt5lHmW5I/AAAAAAAACHw/x_HC067BwBE/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish-+Banty+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5dE_Zs2XXW0/Udzt5lHmW5I/AAAAAAAACHw/x_HC067BwBE/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+EE-Polish-+Banty+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Norman is growing a little more every day. Dairy calves don't get as big as fast, or put on as much weight, and have a slighter frame than the beef calves. I take him for a walk every couple of days, or just turn him loose while I'm out with the chickens. He likes to eat weeds. He's eating his hay really good now. I still have him on milk once a day and Growena calve grain once a day. He still flips the bucket over his head after eating his grain or his milk. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YC1lQu5N_VU/UdzwyVLt6pI/AAAAAAAACIU/3jzXPxSCZJs/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YC1lQu5N_VU/UdzwyVLt6pI/AAAAAAAACIU/3jzXPxSCZJs/s320/EverStuff+Ranch+Norman1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-90008611256731016932013-06-20T09:04:00.000-06:002013-06-20T09:04:28.108-06:00Creepy Meats in Mah Freezer (warning, graphic pic alert)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sunday was the big day to finish off the rest of the Creepy Meats. We did four of them earlier in the week. We just skinned them and parted them out. The other ten got the whole works. We set up the killing station, the camp stove with the big pot for scalding, the butcher island for plucking and gutting.<br /><br />I went out and picked up the birds one at a time. We actually had some volunteers wander into the garage here and there so I didn't have to go looking for them. Flipped the birds upside down to relax it, slip it into the milk jug tucking in wings and feet. Then I reached up and pulled the head out the bottom. We didn't wack off the heads, just a quick slice where the head and neck me under the ear. They did flap and jerk as the blood drained into a bin full of shavings, but most of it was contained in the jug.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oyBvMo-WudI/UcMW_HC9AxI/AAAAAAAACF4/owf1Wx-0XdA/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oyBvMo-WudI/UcMW_HC9AxI/AAAAAAAACF4/owf1Wx-0XdA/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a quick dunk in boiling water at the camp stove, Scott and Pat made really quick work if pulling the feathers. The was we did it was bringing the water to a boil, then backing off the heat to a simmer, somewhere around 157 degrees. Too hot, and in the water too long and the skin starts to cook. Too cold and the feathers won't pull out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DLOjy9KBpNA/UcMXwKXTM0I/AAAAAAAACGE/2vMiNKwqsd8/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DLOjy9KBpNA/UcMXwKXTM0I/AAAAAAAACGE/2vMiNKwqsd8/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11PdIo7Q_kM/UcMXv76g-fI/AAAAAAAACGA/eTn1-4q8ahU/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-11PdIo7Q_kM/UcMXv76g-fI/AAAAAAAACGA/eTn1-4q8ahU/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After they were featherless, Larry made all their insides be on the outsides, the legs and neck came off, and into a cooler full of ice water to cool down. We rested them in the fridge over night, then I parted out some and froze others whole. We barbecued Tuesday evening and had wings, legs, and thighs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hntQ-aYR25Y/UcMZc-ORzlI/AAAAAAAACGY/5FzWk4zmI8E/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hntQ-aYR25Y/UcMZc-ORzlI/AAAAAAAACGY/5FzWk4zmI8E/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Butchering5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My thoughts on how the meat turned out was it wasn't exactly tough. It was hard to explain. It was like the difference in Al detente noodles that are just barely done, and the mushy soft mess that Macaroni and Cheese gets to be. Store birds spend their whole life laying about as they grow. The get up, go to the feeder, walk over to the water, and then laze about again. My birds ran, jumped over things, they free ranged and actually used their muscles some. I didn't let them gorge and eat as much as they wanted. I believe it made a healthier bird. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today I'm going to try a whole bird in the crock pot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-68034104553536639792013-06-02T23:15:00.000-06:002013-06-02T23:15:14.222-06:00Norman makes a friend, Red Rangers, Creepy Meats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>Life is slowly</u> adjusting for the blind horse and his owner. I know he can still see some out of the right eye, but I can see the silver growing in the pupil. I'm learning all sorts of new things. I'm learning that Apache swinging his head side to side to see out of the "good," eye will smack me in the head with the lead rope every time. I can ask him to Whoa and he will stand there for an hour, until I turn my back to hook the fence, and then he walks into me. Whoa is just a silly mouth sound that humans make when there is no lead rope attached to his halter, and therefore should be ignored. Dusk is the hardest time to work around him. Earlier and he can see better. Later and he can't see crap so relies on me for guidance. Dusk is the only time the horse eating monsters that live in shadows on the ground will come out and try and eat his ankles. I'm more nervous about the fact I'm riding a blind horse, than any of the responses he makes to stuff around him. Ben being lazy trips far more often than Apache trying to pay attention.<br /><br />Apache was calm enough today out on his own to be turned out in the pasture all day. Sometimes he gets so worked up looking for the other horses that I'm afraid of him hurting himself on the fence. We've been throwing Ben out there over night and bringing him up in the mornings. After I let Ben out to run and get the farts out, I take Apache out there and let him graze for about three hours till dusk. He's learning where the fence is, and running around like a ninny is not doing anything good for him.<br />(Psst, Mom. See all the green grass? Your horses would love it. Move to Idaho)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BqBFjXUjJ9U/UawSVzJmmrI/AAAAAAAACAw/4Fh3rmgGvjg/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Apache1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BqBFjXUjJ9U/UawSVzJmmrI/AAAAAAAACAw/4Fh3rmgGvjg/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Apache1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See Mom, this is why you want to move to Idaho with me. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZY9Xjxtz6Q/UawSW_b-NFI/AAAAAAAACA8/3YGHo24XjaY/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Apache3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZY9Xjxtz6Q/UawSW_b-NFI/AAAAAAAACA8/3YGHo24XjaY/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Apache3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Norman has been nibbling hay and trying out his calf grain. We go for a walk in a leash into the pasture to nibble some grass. Today I decided to introduce him to Apache.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KL_daGqRT-Q/UawUK7XKKrI/AAAAAAAACBI/5gHvmrm5pLI/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KL_daGqRT-Q/UawUK7XKKrI/AAAAAAAACBI/5gHvmrm5pLI/s400/EverStuffRanch+Norman2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Run little steer, run</td></tr></tbody></table><br />He thought all that grass was the best thing ever. It was taller than he was in places.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--BytxaEMpI8/UawX4LedC6I/AAAAAAAACBs/QTbkf-EB6hg/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--BytxaEMpI8/UawX4LedC6I/AAAAAAAACBs/QTbkf-EB6hg/s400/EverStuffRanch+Norman1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKgyfEyowOI/UawX8JVq11I/AAAAAAAACB0/rMt4iArpDtM/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cKgyfEyowOI/UawX8JVq11I/AAAAAAAACB0/rMt4iArpDtM/s320/EverStuffRanch+Norman3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> Apache watched him zoom around the pasture, but he wasn't spooked by the little bugger at all. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wgc7CdnoN_8/UawVSpcz0LI/AAAAAAAACBU/C3wRGGQ1RpY/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wgc7CdnoN_8/UawVSpcz0LI/AAAAAAAACBU/C3wRGGQ1RpY/s400/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They were grazing side by side after a while. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNid6oQDd5M/UawV1rrE8bI/AAAAAAAACBc/euilCKK2da0/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNid6oQDd5M/UawV1rrE8bI/AAAAAAAACBc/euilCKK2da0/s400/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICGwjpDsBLI/UawZBWXvIyI/AAAAAAAACCA/Cza-hdoH2SY/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICGwjpDsBLI/UawZBWXvIyI/AAAAAAAACCA/Cza-hdoH2SY/s400/EverStuffRanch+Norman+Apache3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><u>The Creepy Meat</u>s are HUGE! Just last week I was looking at them thinking they were right about six weeks or so, and with restricting their feed, and letting them free range, I prolly had about another two weeks or so to go before starting to butcher. Nope. Them suckers are packing on the pounds over night. It's like trying to wade through a pile of puppies in the morning when I go out to feed. They're climbing all over my feet, weaving between my legs trying to trip me, pecking at my pants, anything to make the food drop down faster. I'm almost afeared of loosing a limb when I set down the pan full of crumbles.<br /><br />I do the, "Here chicky chicky chicky," call when I feed so I know I can always call them in for the night with food. Feeding the Rangers in the garage and calling chicky chicky, I hear this tapping on the back door. I open it and there is the whole flock of Creepy Meats. Just standing there. Staring at me. "Yo Lady, you gonna feed us?"<br /><br />The other morning I tried going out the front door so I didn't have to wade through a seething mass of white chickens. The next morning this is what I found when I opened the door. They were going to walk right in and make themselves at home.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sf3SKqOVjGY/UawbcoazFPI/AAAAAAAACCU/YJug8CwVPBw/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sf3SKqOVjGY/UawbcoazFPI/AAAAAAAACCU/YJug8CwVPBw/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAXs1SRsVk8/UawijSSmzAI/AAAAAAAACCk/6UlyKKQZOUM/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QAXs1SRsVk8/UawijSSmzAI/AAAAAAAACCk/6UlyKKQZOUM/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think they're stalking me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's a pic from today. The black hen is the Jersey Giant that thinks she's their momma.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAq55HVSaRo/Uawi_jnbT9I/AAAAAAAACCs/WXO-W1Y4bgE/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fAq55HVSaRo/Uawi_jnbT9I/AAAAAAAACCs/WXO-W1Y4bgE/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2hBcP7zjNFw/UawjBjcv9sI/AAAAAAAACC0/Nq8FtDUE6e4/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2hBcP7zjNFw/UawjBjcv9sI/AAAAAAAACC0/Nq8FtDUE6e4/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+CreepyMeats4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The new Red Rangers and the five new pullets are outside full time now. I didn't have another pen for them and the momma hen wants to run them out of town. The Creepy Meats want to eat them along with anything that holds still longer than three seconds. So I had to find somewhere to put them. The boy and I drug the brooder crate outside. I wrestled up against the side of the chicken run and layed it on it's side. The wire top is now a side and the solid bottom is now the back. It's all hillbillied together with the bed extender from the Ford, temporary fence posts for the horse fence, a tarp that got blown against the barb wire fence and is full of punctures, and what ever pieces I could find to make a door of sorts. I did honor Scott's one request, and used none of the damned hillbilly bailing twine. I used the thin wire that was wrapped around the roll of chicken wire that I rolled up and saved, (hid so it wouldn't get thrown away like it prolly should have, but I knew I could find a use for it)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MyUGTvUndHE/UawkneLUWAI/AAAAAAAACDA/Ko5oB83OE7g/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Rangers1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MyUGTvUndHE/UawkneLUWAI/AAAAAAAACDA/Ko5oB83OE7g/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Rangers1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The little banty pullet is so cute with her feathered legs and feet. The grand baby calls her Phyllis </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PNkbbRbR81E/UawlEBdkc5I/AAAAAAAACDI/a-2iG-MX_9I/s1600/EverStuff+Ranch+Banty1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PNkbbRbR81E/UawlEBdkc5I/AAAAAAAACDI/a-2iG-MX_9I/s400/EverStuff+Ranch+Banty1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-57096724044364700912013-05-23T22:42:00.000-06:002013-05-23T22:42:19.296-06:00Broody chickens 0 for 2, Chicks, Tractoring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So I didn't get anything to hatch. Again. The first time last year the roo was a dud. All the eggs had turned into liquid yellow water on the inside. None of them developed anything. This year we got a little further than that. I finally did eggtopsies Wednesday. That was day 25. They should have started hatching out Friday night or Saturday morning if they were going to.<br /><br />I won't post pictures of all the gory insides. First off, ick, and second, my hands were covered in liquid chicken bits and no way I was going to be able to take pictures like that. Out of the 10 eggs we started with, and the 4 more she stole, 5 actually had something in them, besides yellow water. Four chicks looked like they made it to about day 17-ish I'm guessing. They still had large egg sacks attached to their bellies. All four of them were about the same size. Day 17-ish was also the day the broody hen stole a thin shelled egg and it broke over the others in the nest. <br /><br />The last developing chick had actually pipped, or broken through, the inner membrane of the egg into the air cell in the top. From there it should have hatched, but again, eggs got broken over the nest. This time I think it was a squabble with someone wanting to lay in the box the broody was in. Now that the creepy meats are free ranging I haven't been banning the older hens from the chicken house. They had been laying under an overturned feed bin. I'm just guessing, but either the broken eggs coated the outside of the developing eggs and suffocated them, or there was some sort of bacterial or other ick transfer into the eggs.<br /><br />I've been throwing the broody hen, Crooked Toes, out of the nest box trying to break her of her broodiness. No eggs, but she still wants to set in there. They don't leave the nest or lay eggs when they are setting and she's getting skinny. Once a day they run out, eat as much as they can hold, drink deeply, take the biggest broody poop you ever saw, and maybe sneak in a dust bath before returning to set and zone out. It's time for her to start eating and laying again.<br /><br />Instead of wanting to set, today she decided to adopt all the older chicks out in the yard.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VvRB1ORqgOI/UZ7nzNg7QCI/AAAAAAAAB_g/1kyxRigNHxI/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Broody2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VvRB1ORqgOI/UZ7nzNg7QCI/AAAAAAAAB_g/1kyxRigNHxI/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Broody2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The older hens just chase them around like big bullies when they come in the feed. Not her, she bullies everything but them. This morning she fluffed all up, spread her wings like a strutting turkey and went after Bastard, the cat, when he got too close to the chicks. When I got home this afternoon she was laying out with them. I could see them darting nervous looks at her, just waiting to get pecked on the head like the other hens do. After I fed she got closer and closer as they ate. When they realized she wasn't going to chase them off, they all gathered around her. She kept setting down and spreading her wings trying to cover any chick that got near enough, never mind that at five weeks old, the creepy meats are almost her size. That one white one in front of her is a White Rock pullet, and the rest are creepy meats. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvejGNEW7tk/UZ7nyS0qZZI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/e7iC_u344Nk/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Broody1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvejGNEW7tk/UZ7nyS0qZZI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/e7iC_u344Nk/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Broody1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>She's actually making cooing noises at the White Rock chick as it preens it's feathers. All around I guess they're all happy now. Next time I get a broody, I'll put her, her eggs, and some shavings in a dog carrier, move the whole shebang into the brooder, and make sure she only has good sturdy eggs. It's gonna be a little while, since we put Kato in the freezer, and the new little pecker head is only five weeks old.<br /><br />And now for shots of the newest chicks. No, I didn't get any more. I promised Scott I wouldn't bring home anything else that eats. Pete at Valley Co-op sure tried his hardest to get me to buy a turkey chick or two the last time I was in there though. It was hard to say no, but I did.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvRz2wHtQyc/UZ7sYL3ZeoI/AAAAAAAAB_w/WMgX9BqymFo/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Ranger2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WvRz2wHtQyc/UZ7sYL3ZeoI/AAAAAAAAB_w/WMgX9BqymFo/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Ranger2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oxPU4XlmJe4/UZ7saZ2K9-I/AAAAAAAAB_4/EAR4T96JaJ8/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Ranger3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oxPU4XlmJe4/UZ7saZ2K9-I/AAAAAAAAB_4/EAR4T96JaJ8/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Ranger3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Growing by leaps and bounds they are. They just started using the branches as perches. Some of the them are really getting very pretty feather colors. Almost makes me want to keep one or two of the pullets as egg layers and see what I get for chicks with a cross with the Sagittas. The little Banty pullets is still tiny. The Easter Eggers are changing color as their feathers come in. I'm excited to see if they lay blue or green eggs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Scott borrowed Uncle Mike's tractor again this year. He tilled and corrugated the garden for me. It's been hard to not rush right out and plant anything, but a good rule of thumb around here is to not put anything in the ground until Memorial Day. Good thing too, cause we got frost last night. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbqw8xWuyaI/UZ7t5a_ZRnI/AAAAAAAACAQ/EbfuhVlfgO4/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Tractor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gbqw8xWuyaI/UZ7t5a_ZRnI/AAAAAAAACAQ/EbfuhVlfgO4/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Tractor.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> The garden before, and full of weeds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rMnqee1Am2U/UZ7t0Q0wcKI/AAAAAAAACAI/IfhsReLProY/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rMnqee1Am2U/UZ7t0Q0wcKI/AAAAAAAACAI/IfhsReLProY/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Garden.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Scott working working some tractor magic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rd3wjxZV0sE/UZ7t6JpjhoI/AAAAAAAACAY/EtoCGLQFI0U/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rd3wjxZV0sE/UZ7t6JpjhoI/AAAAAAAACAY/EtoCGLQFI0U/s400/Everstuff+Ranch1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-38141314867770093072013-05-16T23:22:00.000-06:002013-05-16T23:22:00.412-06:00Chicken Math<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pqYnFNKV_XE/UZWpip5IGCI/AAAAAAAAB_A/2a6W0LKjTOI/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+ChicksBanty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pqYnFNKV_XE/UZWpip5IGCI/AAAAAAAAB_A/2a6W0LKjTOI/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+ChicksBanty.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you see the tiny little bantam head in the middle of all the chicks?</td></tr></tbody></table>How does, I'd like to get about eight chicks to replace the older hens turn into, "Oh heck, how did I end up with twenty seven chickens?" It's chicken math. People who have raised chicks understand chicken math.<br /><br />When Scotty and I got the first batch of chicks we started with fifteen creepy meats, and six Sagita pullets. I lost one of the pullets due to unthriftyness. It was just lethargic and eventually went to sleep and didn't wake up. One of the creepy meats got it's head wedged under the feeder and died a day later. Of course I had to replace them. I got three more pullets.<br /><br />Now we're at twenty two. I had four adult hens. Make that twenty six. After I moved them all outside I still had this big brooder crate that I only really got to use for a week and some change. We got to talking and really, fourteen chickens for the freezer wasn't enough and one of the pullets is a rooster. Twelve hens really isn't too many either.<br /><br />Then again I've Really wanted the hens that lay green and blue eggs since I started with the chickens last year. D&B had some when I went in there the other day. Darn it. I just HAD to have some. They have such cute little muffs under their beaks too. Then there was the single little bantam pullet left that couldn't be left on her own. Just look, she's gonna have feathered legs and feet.<br /><br />Chicken Math. When eight new pullets turns into thirty two chickens. So make that seventeen hens when they're all grown.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJbH_88eCjY/UZWp1UchsWI/AAAAAAAAB_I/vaak9TO-oaM/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Chicks1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJbH_88eCjY/UZWp1UchsWI/AAAAAAAAB_I/vaak9TO-oaM/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Chicks1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two dark ones are the colored egg layers and the one with the cinnamon-ish colored head instead of the a yellow head. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />And back to the fourteen meat birds really isn't enough to stock my freezer. We decided twenty more would be good. Pete didn't have any more CornishX's but he did have a whole load of Red Rangers. They are a little slower growing bird than the CornishX. Box em up I told him.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">So what am I up to now? </div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>4 Jersey Giants</li><li>2 White Rocks</li><li>1 Austra White</li><li>4 Amerauconas</li><li>1 Bantam</li><li>4 or 5 Sagitas</li><li>14 Creepy Meats</li><li>20 Red Rangers</li></ul>ERM, I'm up to 51-52 chickens. Did I mention the Broody hen sitting on fourteen eggs? Thirty four of those birds are going in my freezer though. I want to smoke some, try canning some of the breasts. Some will be parted out, some frozen whole. That leaves me seventeen or so laying hens.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tomorrow or Saturday the broody eggs should start hatching out if any are going to. She stole a couple eggs from the other next boxes, and I know for sure two of them cracked and leaked liquid chicken all over the other eggs. I don't know if that will affect anything. Yes I could just candle them, but I can't a find a flashlight around here, and I never remember before Scott goes off to work and takes his tool bag with him that has a flashlight in it. Plus I'm not really sure what I'm looking at. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Did I mention my neighbor just ordered twelve Rhode Island Reds? She doesn't know why she ordered twelve and maybe would I like a few when they feather out? Oh yeah, and the older hens she already has, could they find a home at my house too when the new pullets start laying........</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Chicken Math. When eight new pullets turns into 75 chickens. </div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-64210012434424122762013-05-13T22:44:00.001-06:002013-05-13T22:44:54.174-06:00Yay, irrigation season has begun, Pickled asparagus, Chicks outside full time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMEMfRk5sdk/UZA7yF9ffCI/AAAAAAAAB84/xhARbDgNWRo/s1600/Gooding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMEMfRk5sdk/UZA7yF9ffCI/AAAAAAAAB84/xhARbDgNWRo/s640/Gooding.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><u>South Central Idaho</u> is basically a desert. High desert, but still desert. Looking at Google Maps you see little green circles all over the place. All those green circles are from the irrigation pivot sprinklers. We grow a lot of alfalfa, corn, beans, and yes potatoes. Idaho is one of the top dairy producers in the US. Those cows eat a lot of alfalfa, and corn to make all that milk. There is a huge system of canals and deep water wells to make all those fields green. The big farmers use pivots sprinklers. Those are huge sprinklers on an arm that rotate around in a circle.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R00g5yVXAp8/UZBnf_B8OkI/AAAAAAAAB9I/38DAAaX129w/s1600/pivot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R00g5yVXAp8/UZBnf_B8OkI/AAAAAAAAB9I/38DAAaX129w/s400/pivot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We don't have enough acreage to have to worry about that. What we do have is gated pipe. The water comes down the canal and fills a head gate. It's a big culvert pipe that sticks out of the ground. The head gate needs to be taller than any point down the pipe that it waters. It uses gravity to build up pressure to move the water down the pipe and out the gate. Water starts on Dave's acreage out back, then on to Andrea's, us, and then over to Rebecca. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vz2kSkM3DdA/UZGo_OXuFfI/AAAAAAAAB9c/vGjwhEJn12k/s1600/0512130927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vz2kSkM3DdA/UZGo_OXuFfI/AAAAAAAAB9c/vGjwhEJn12k/s400/0512130927.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fvMF4rr5ss/UZGo-5alDQI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/iMsQRw_ZX5M/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Irrigation2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9fvMF4rr5ss/UZGo-5alDQI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/iMsQRw_ZX5M/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Irrigation2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Those orange plastic thingies are the gates. We get our water every nine days in the evening. I go out and make sure the valve to Rebecca's is closed so all my water doesn't run out over her property. Then I make sure I don't hear any of my gates with water pouring out of them. It takes a little bit for the pressure in the pipes to build. With my big silly boots on I go through and open about every third or fourth gate about half way. The front pasture to the west gets watered overnight first. In the morning I have to tromp back out and close those gates while opening the ones to the short pasture to the north. By the time I get home from work it's all good and flooded and I close those gates and open the ones that run to the ditches under the trees and let that run over night. In the morning again I go out and close those and open the gates to the east pasture and it runs all day. In the evening I go open the valve at the end of the pipe and let all that water run to the neighbors, and walk my pipe and make sure all my gates are closed. Here's the result. A couple acres of green lush grass for the ponies and the calves.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kPFxA8Y_030/UZGqmeS1YbI/AAAAAAAAB9s/6WOkjnRytp8/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Irrigation3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kPFxA8Y_030/UZGqmeS1YbI/AAAAAAAAB9s/6WOkjnRytp8/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Irrigation3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This whole flood irrigating business will run through the first week or two in October usually. Every nine days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BtjZikM2mQ/UZGssIXC0vI/AAAAAAAAB94/QORJ5jgtqK0/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Asparagus1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BtjZikM2mQ/UZGssIXC0vI/AAAAAAAAB94/QORJ5jgtqK0/s320/Everstuff+Ranch+Asparagus1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u>Asparagus season is</u> here too. It grows wild on the ditch banks and at the edges of the fields around here. I never had it before I moved here. It looked weird and I wasn't about to taste it growing up. Scotty made me try a piece. Holy crap was it good. Even raw, right out of the ground I like it. I drive slowly up and down the back roads looking for either the orange mass of dead fronds from the year before, or the new bright green fronds that seem to shoot up 12 inches over night. It doesn't last long so I pick as much as I can find. This year I tried pickling it.<br />The neighbor down the road gave us a few jars last year that she had made, and oh man it's so good. I couldn't get a hold of her so I went exploring on the internet. Cause that's where I find every thing dontcha know? I ended up trying the recipe from <a href="http://www.foodinjars.com/2009/04/pickled-asparagu/" target="_blank">this site</a>. <br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Spicy Pickled Asparagus</span><br /> 4 pounds asparagus, trimmed to fit your jars<br /> 3 cups vinegar (half apple cider vinegar, half white vinegar)<br /> 3 cups water<br /> 2 tablespoons pickling salt<br /> 4 tablespoons pickling spice<br /> 1 tablespoon red hot chili flakes<br /> 4 garlic cloves, peeled<br /> 4 slices of lemon (I didn't have any lemons so I used a few splashes of lemon juice)<br /> <br /><span style="font-size: large;">Instructions</span><br /><br /><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Sterilize your jars in boiling water for 5 minuets</li><li>Put the lemon slices in the bottom and pack the trimmed asparagus into the jars. Tuck a garlic clove down into the spears. </li><li>Bring the vinegar, water, and spices to a boil. Pour into jars on top of asparagus leaving at least 1/2 inch of head space.</li><li>Put lids and rings on the jars and process in hot water bath for 20 minuets for quarts. (You can skip this last part if you plan on just putting your pickled asparagus in the fridge).</li><li>Wait at least 24 hours before eating, to give the asparagus spears a chance to get sufficiently pickly.</li></ol><br /><br />The chicks are officially outside chicks now. They have enough feathers, and it's warm enough that they don't need a heat lamp. The big hens have been kicked out of the run and they're pretty damned miffed about it. I didn't want them picking on the chicks, and the broody keeps stealing their eggs. They keep laying in the other boxes, (Duh) but the broody hen keeps stealing the eggs before I can get in there. This is bad because A) I'm hungry at breakfast time, and B) she'll only set for a day or two after the chicks hatch, if they do.<br /><br />The old hens keep looking it at the interlopers to their run like, "Hey, why are they always eating and I can't get some too?"<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-crexPV049hA/UZG-m2y1a8I/AAAAAAAAB-k/M1xRWyIwprQ/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-crexPV049hA/UZG-m2y1a8I/AAAAAAAAB-k/M1xRWyIwprQ/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So I opened the door to the run and let the little buggers out and the old biddies in. The older hens were not impressed with the grower crumbles the chicks were eating and with a few pecks to the little ones to show their displeasure everyone hunted bugs. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qc-yIttXXY/UZGvNNgi8VI/AAAAAAAAB-U/yD2KDgJAyuI/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qc-yIttXXY/UZGvNNgi8VI/AAAAAAAAB-U/yD2KDgJAyuI/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dDDlR1mTXlQ/UZGvLhMkHSI/AAAAAAAAB-E/y14WB7I77rs/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dDDlR1mTXlQ/UZGvLhMkHSI/AAAAAAAAB-E/y14WB7I77rs/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ONTiw-pJM/UZGvMu4Vh6I/AAAAAAAAB-M/U6rTLZ98PGM/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u2ONTiw-pJM/UZGvMu4Vh6I/AAAAAAAAB-M/U6rTLZ98PGM/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I still have one pullet the is smaller than the rest, and very much smaller then the creepy meats. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wI6U9ko6CGw/UZHADw0F3PI/AAAAAAAAB-w/lwEk-sxdg40/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Little1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wI6U9ko6CGw/UZHADw0F3PI/AAAAAAAAB-w/lwEk-sxdg40/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Little1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I totally understand why Carolyn's daughter won't go in the pen with the freaky little feathered mutants. They're hopping up on my feet, pecking at my legs and trying to trip me to make the food get in the bowls faster when I go in there now. I do this weird shuffle slide with my feet so none of them can get under foot and get squashed. I look like the pied piper of ugly, half feathered, huge legged little chickens when I walk out in the yard when they're out. They're all jumping along behind me begging for food. </div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-28686113861025810172013-05-05T22:53:00.000-06:002013-05-05T22:53:17.467-06:00Processing chickens, Kato goes to Freezer Camp, Norman the bucket head<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Having a mean rooster was kinda funny in the beginning. Did he really just jump at me? It was cold and most of the time I was out doing chores in my carhart overalls. Scott found it rather amusing as well. Six pounds of rooster was attacking 220 pounds, of 6'2" biker turned homesteader. He'd wait till you weren't looking and then come running up behind you and pounce.<br /><br />The weather got warmer and it started getting annoying. I'd go in to feed the girls and he jump me. The first time he did it without the overalls on It HURT! I wasn't sure if it was the claws he was hitting me with first, or the wings he was beating me with, but that just wasn't going to fly around here. I chased his feathered ass around the chicken run till I pinned him in the corner. I snatched him up and held him by a wing and his legs and gave him a good shake or three. Then I carried him around upside down while I did the rest of my chores, and threw him back in the chicken run.<br /><br /> I only had to stomp at him to get him to knock his crap off. Once I turned him out to free range with the girls he'd get a wild hair up his butt and think about coming after me. I'd throw my hands up of my head, growl, and run at him. That was enough to make him back off. It was getting to be a bit of a pain to always be on the look out for Kato.<br /><br />Scott called me at work one day dismayed that he killed my rooster. Kato jumped him from behind while he was feeding the horses and out of reflex Scott snap kicked him to the head. He called me back 15 minuets later to tell me Kato was up and pecking again. He was starting to go after Scott every time Scott was out in the yard and had his back turned.<br /><br />Life is too short to put up with a mean rooster, but I really wanted some chicks from him and my Jersey Giant girls. Then it dawned on me. I have a hen sitting on 14 eggs. (yes she's stolen two more eggs from the other hens.) I don't need that mean old bastaige any more. That and I'm pretty positive one of the new chicks is a roo. Off with his head.<br /><br />Actually I was helping the neighbor process her three creepy meats today. We didn't off with anyone's head till they were already dead. I found a very good video on youtube. They addressed the problem of the creepy meats having shoulder too wide and necks too short for the cones most people use/make for non creepy meats. They used an empty milk jug. Cut off the bottom and cut out around the pour spout. It worked perfectly. We did mount ours to a saw horse instead of one person holding it.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/vy_vutu5qO0/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/vy_vutu5qO0&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/vy_vutu5qO0&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div><br /><br />The question came up between Scott and I on whether to take their heads and then let them bleed out, or cut their throats. I liked the thought process in this video and we did it the same way they did. Pull down the head to stretch the neck, a quick slice against the side of the neck where it meets the head and bleed out into a tote filled with the shavings I pulled out of the brooder pen. Later it's emptied into the compost heap. They still jerked and flapped as their last nervous response took over, but it wasn't the running around flapping with your head cut off that every one imagines. A quick dip in a pot of boiling water and the feathers came out ever so easily. All in all it was a relatively easy process. Kato met his end today and with a quick prayer of thanks, he's now sitting in my fridge to chill over night, and then into the freezer he goes.<br /><br />And for Carolyn at <a href="http://krazoacres.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Krazo Acres</a> Norman the Bucket Head.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TmUSj6XSghA/UYc1X0S6puI/AAAAAAAAB8E/nwAQL-0Kskg/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Buckethead1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TmUSj6XSghA/UYc1X0S6puI/AAAAAAAAB8E/nwAQL-0Kskg/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Buckethead1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oOArXMW1yRE/UYc1pXf9VQI/AAAAAAAAB8U/BoKxL3P_H_s/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Buckethead2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oOArXMW1yRE/UYc1pXf9VQI/AAAAAAAAB8U/BoKxL3P_H_s/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Buckethead2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's not stuck on his head this time, but he still flips it up over his head. I really need to get one of those one that hang on the fence. I only had it tied to the fence with one piece of twine and he could get his head through under the handle. I tied it with a second piece so he couldn't get his head stuck through. Silly calf. </div><br /><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-73406445766042230832013-05-04T18:24:00.000-06:002013-05-04T18:24:15.316-06:00The new brooder, First day outside, They sleep like the dead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>I love having</u> a handy hubby. Any time I need something built or fixed, he's right there to make it happen. The chicks are not so little fluff balls anymore. The creepy meats are looking downright creepy, all half feathered and loosing their down. There is starting to be a bit of a size difference between the creepy meats and the hopeful pullets. I'm pretty sure one of them is going to be a rooster.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l44JX_SK3bQ/UYWJsyR8JmI/AAAAAAAAB4E/Z2GqdSxWAJQ/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder1.jpg" width="400" /></div><br />We've had this crate that Scott brought home from work, hanging around out in the yard for about a year. I saw a potential chicken/chick pen, Scott was thinking a compost crate. It's sat and we've done nothing with it. We walked out in the garage last week and one of the creepy meats had it's head poking out the chicken wire on top of the water trough/brooder. It was time for a bigger enclosure.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S9dEDgms3hE/UYWJsff6nuI/AAAAAAAAB4A/nDklyZiAOzg/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S9dEDgms3hE/UYWJsff6nuI/AAAAAAAAB4A/nDklyZiAOzg/s320/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Scott and I brought the crate into the garage and cleaned it up. Got rid of the spider webs, dirt and crud. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-trw5crgIMLs/UYWKtQ-h4BI/AAAAAAAAB5M/XsYdhRpkXCw/s1600/EverstuffRanchNewBrooder2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-trw5crgIMLs/UYWKtQ-h4BI/AAAAAAAAB5M/XsYdhRpkXCw/s400/EverstuffRanchNewBrooder2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's been some old pieces of plywood hanging out under a tarp behind the wood pile, just waiting to be put to some use. One piece was just about the perfect size for the floor. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5kn_DfgeUE/UYWLGaEpCQI/AAAAAAAAB5U/HIWjNDNQZc4/s1600/EverstuffRanch+NewBrooder3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5kn_DfgeUE/UYWLGaEpCQI/AAAAAAAAB5U/HIWjNDNQZc4/s400/EverstuffRanch+NewBrooder3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Scott took a grinder and smoothed off all the sharp points from the nails holding the crate together. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QuVHM5Zsis/UYWJws6SlUI/AAAAAAAAB4c/3JIlt91uvzo/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_QuVHM5Zsis/UYWJws6SlUI/AAAAAAAAB4c/3JIlt91uvzo/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> There was a gap between the slats of the crate and the inner supports. Some pallets Liam, Uncle Jeff, and Scott took apart provided the 2x6's he fixed to the inside to keep the shavings and the chicks from falling out.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U8Es1TiQtxM/UYWJ1SHOzLI/AAAAAAAAB4s/JM9cQCcpjbs/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U8Es1TiQtxM/UYWJ1SHOzLI/AAAAAAAAB4s/JM9cQCcpjbs/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder5.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvIOJfbhgbM/UYWJzSUobWI/AAAAAAAAB4k/tC6ObqqA57I/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nvIOJfbhgbM/UYWJzSUobWI/AAAAAAAAB4k/tC6ObqqA57I/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />The smaller holed chicken wire was the only purchased part to this project. Scott stapled it to the outside while I stretched it. (Or took pictures)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4AJRoNohrMw/UYWJ4vUkYWI/AAAAAAAAB40/dGYL0DXnIsw/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4AJRoNohrMw/UYWJ4vUkYWI/AAAAAAAAB40/dGYL0DXnIsw/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p_MK5Q_B1OA/UYWJ59jnbRI/AAAAAAAAB48/2AVlNTsazKA/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p_MK5Q_B1OA/UYWJ59jnbRI/AAAAAAAAB48/2AVlNTsazKA/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The new brooder was moved into place and shavings added. It takes a bit more shavings, they have a lot more room. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-91BUkKy3yls/UYWJ6jfe00I/AAAAAAAAB5E/p36YWq9yphE/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-91BUkKy3yls/UYWJ6jfe00I/AAAAAAAAB5E/p36YWq9yphE/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A1BJ5k5hCKs/UYWJu5EZ92I/AAAAAAAAB4U/ZVgPHlyRWWY/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A1BJ5k5hCKs/UYWJu5EZ92I/AAAAAAAAB4U/ZVgPHlyRWWY/s400/EverstuffRanch+chickNewBrooder10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A couple of sticks from the trees for perches and we have happy chickens. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHC1yvrqXjU/UYWN1qVYiwI/AAAAAAAAB5k/OeNb0kn1DTY/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chicks15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHC1yvrqXjU/UYWN1qVYiwI/AAAAAAAAB5k/OeNb0kn1DTY/s400/EverstuffRanch+chicks15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Today was their</u> first day out side. The creepy meats are down right ugly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z2ldnyghhgw/UYWgx3E7HjI/AAAAAAAAB50/pXQ7-q4jDfA/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Ugly1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z2ldnyghhgw/UYWgx3E7HjI/AAAAAAAAB50/pXQ7-q4jDfA/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Ugly1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have one tiny little red pullet. She is the pluckiest chick too. Her tail sticks straight up in the air and that made me think rooster, but her wings and tail feathers grew in faster than the other chicks' and I don't see the beginnings of bright red waddles like I do on one of the bigger pullet candidates. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CEzyAghk93w/UYWhYZSX1QI/AAAAAAAAB58/bZIGRAfY7Bg/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CEzyAghk93w/UYWhYZSX1QI/AAAAAAAAB58/bZIGRAfY7Bg/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I put up some old warped boards around the inside of the big chicken's run and turned em loose. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YN8hpZdEGz4/UYWhvmMsL4I/AAAAAAAAB6M/ETGP1fNp7eY/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YN8hpZdEGz4/UYWhvmMsL4I/AAAAAAAAB6M/ETGP1fNp7eY/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iTHuURM-yiA/UYWh1dgQT8I/AAAAAAAAB6U/xLVUtdxZwTk/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iTHuURM-yiA/UYWh1dgQT8I/AAAAAAAAB6U/xLVUtdxZwTk/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-178pzatF93o/UYWiAcBoDFI/AAAAAAAAB64/rYJy8nytJQk/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-178pzatF93o/UYWiAcBoDFI/AAAAAAAAB64/rYJy8nytJQk/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">One of the older girls looking in and wondering why she has to use the barrel nest box outside the run. </div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hogRK_T-PpE/UYWh_ER16BI/AAAAAAAAB6s/N4sNP2HV2Xg/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hogRK_T-PpE/UYWh_ER16BI/AAAAAAAAB6s/N4sNP2HV2Xg/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+Outside5.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>If you've never</u> seen these little puff balls sleep before, don't be alarmed if you wander out and look in the brooder while they are sleeping. You might think you have a whole pen full of dead chicks. This is how you think of them sleeping. All cute and roosting on a stick.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zzEm0QrMFTo/UYWlgeqKZnI/AAAAAAAAB7s/DTIQ-xs24bw/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zzEm0QrMFTo/UYWlgeqKZnI/AAAAAAAAB7s/DTIQ-xs24bw/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is what you really see. Necks stretched out, flat little dead birds. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pbSW8EOeWIs/UYWljenWYVI/AAAAAAAAB70/YyLbXzr_Kpc/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pbSW8EOeWIs/UYWljenWYVI/AAAAAAAAB70/YyLbXzr_Kpc/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MwavxX4-dEA/UYWleqb_sbI/AAAAAAAAB7o/dj6AyRUVrh4/s1600/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MwavxX4-dEA/UYWleqb_sbI/AAAAAAAAB7o/dj6AyRUVrh4/s400/Everstuff+Ranch+SleepingChicks3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then as soon as you gasp in dismay, and moan, "Oh No!" They all pop up cheeping and complaining that you interrupted their nap. And dang it lady, where's the bleeping food?!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-28839476500689209392013-04-26T20:41:00.000-06:002013-04-26T20:41:43.792-06:00Hawt Damn, I gotta broody, Norman has an under bite, They're starting to look like chickens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mU7Ukg5foF4/UXsyvf8L1pI/AAAAAAAAB28/VlmSO3g6Boc/s1600/EverstuffRanch+Broody1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mU7Ukg5foF4/UXsyvf8L1pI/AAAAAAAAB28/VlmSO3g6Boc/s320/EverstuffRanch+Broody1.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><u>I've really really</u> really really been wanting to get my own chickens to hatch out some eggs. I was So over the moon excited last year when the Traveling Chicken went broody and we found her sitting on a while mess of eggs. Every day I took a peek under her fluffy bottom. When she got off the next in the evenings I looked at the eggs. I tried candling them but I wasn't sure what I was looking for. Day 22 and I think I checked out there 15 times a day. I let them go to 30 days just to make sure before I kicked her off the nest and cracked one open. Scrambled eggs. Runny looking mess. No baby chickies. What a let down bummer.<br /><br />I've been reading everything I could find about enticing a chicken to go broody. I can find a hundred and one ways to make them Not be broody. If your laying hen is sitting on eggs, she isn't laying any more. In only one place did I find someone mention leaving eggs in the box till there are at least 11 before the hens will set them.<br /><br />I found a clutch of 6 under the tarp over Dave's hay. No idea how long they had been there. They'd been frozen at night and thawed back out. There was no way I was bringing them in to the fridge. I had a much better idea in mind. I've been pulling the eggs once a day, but just leaving them on the counter, waiting and hoping... After a week into the fridge they went. Scott raided a few for breakfast, and still no one setting.<br /><br />Every morning I count chickens. 1, 2, 3, 4... Bummer. In the evening when I let them out to roam while I feed I count them. 1, 2, 3, 4... Look randomly out my bedroom window. 1, 2, 3, 4... Sigh. One of the girls at work sent home some plastic eggs. Finally I had 11 out there. Three days ago... 1, 2, 3, 4... Wed on and off all day 1, 2, 3, 4, ... 1, 2, 3, 4... Wed evening 1, 2, 3.... Wait, three? 1, 2, 3.. Yup. Three. I didn't get excited yet, no matter how much I wanted to. She could just be taking a while. Sometimes I think they take a nap after all that clucking and talking about how they just laid an egg.<br /><br />I was off yesterday, and threw open the curtains when I got up, to count. PleasePleasePlease... 1, 2, 3, 4. Damn. Double Damn. Four chickens and a rooster pacing and yelling to hurry up with the scratch already. Well Poo. So much for that idea. I was so disappointed I never even checked for eggs yesterday. I opened the door and let them all out to free range yesterday since I was home. I watched them walk across the driveway later out to the trees, and automatically counted. Hey, there is only three. All day I watched and waited to see a fourth. Nope. I felt a little excited. Just a little. Last night when I went to feed I called them back to the coop. Just three. I peeked in under the lid of the nest box, and there she was. Still flattened like she was when I was hoping the day before.<br /><br />Just to be sure, I decided to give it all today. If she was still in there when I got home this evening, I'd move the eggs I had on the counter under her and take out the plastic ones. I was down to five eggs after the breakfast raid, and the ones that were over a week old. (In Scott's defense I never mentioned to him why I was holding eggs on the counter in a bowl.) She was still in there!!!!! Yay HappyDance! I just got back in from feeding and I swapped out the plastics for the ones on the counter, and between yesterday and today I had 5 more eggs in a box on the other side. She's got 10 eggs under her. I'll start counting tomorrow as day one.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3fhP5HZ2kDg/UXs3vksgECI/AAAAAAAAB3M/AtW2DETIyMI/s1600/EverstuffRanch+Broody2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3fhP5HZ2kDg/UXs3vksgECI/AAAAAAAAB3M/AtW2DETIyMI/s400/EverstuffRanch+Broody2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDE1oN4JToA/UXs4wEB95xI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/T1FiG-Tq8xM/s1600/EverStuffRanchNorman1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDE1oN4JToA/UXs4wEB95xI/AAAAAAAAB3Y/T1FiG-Tq8xM/s400/EverStuffRanchNorman1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Norman has got one heck of an under bite from this angle. </span></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jlcWQf1Geco/UXs5b0iWt9I/AAAAAAAAB3k/8ybFGBTj9xk/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chick22Eyeliner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jlcWQf1Geco/UXs5b0iWt9I/AAAAAAAAB3k/8ybFGBTj9xk/s320/EverstuffRanch+chick22Eyeliner.jpg" width="320" /></a><u>The little chickies</u> are starting to look like chickens. They're just over a week to two weeks old now. I love the eye liner on this little one. I hope it keeps it, and that it's a pullet, so I can keep it. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M7z8zOtM_ac/UXs6IfFWvdI/AAAAAAAAB3s/gWzj4lvP8OU/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chick22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M7z8zOtM_ac/UXs6IfFWvdI/AAAAAAAAB3s/gWzj4lvP8OU/s400/EverstuffRanch+chick22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Most of them have their wings feathered out and little tail feathers starting to make an appearance. When I take the lid off the tun they think they're gonna fly right out, hopping and flapping their wings. It's not going to tall enough or big enough for them really fast. </div><br /></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3885491527017345898.post-60188714293706677172013-04-22T23:10:00.002-06:002013-04-22T23:19:56.239-06:00Moo Moo calf goes for a walk, Sagitta chickens, Training Apache<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u>Moo Moo cow</u> might have the name Norman. That just popped into my head today and it seems to be sticking around. I don't know where it came from. My Uncle Hank had one of my chihuahua puppies a few years back named Norman. I honestly didn't think of that till after Norman came to me for the calf. We'll see if it's still sticking there after I go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning. .<br /><br />The calves Andrea have next door have gotten loose a few times, and trying to make those stubborn buggers go back where they came from with just some flapping arms and loud yelling doesn't always work so hot. When they have their tail in the air, running from you and bucking all you can do is cuss and fume at them. Also eventually they are going to have to load in a trailer to go to the processor. Right now Norman is still small enough that I can manhandle him if necessary.<br /><br />I have a dog harness hanging out in the garage. I don't know where it came from. When Andrea had her first calf this year here for the night we used it to lead him over to her place with her leading and me pushing from behind to keep him moving. I put it on Norman. He wasn't thrilled. Jerseys like to throw themselves down on the ground and decide to die instead of walk on a leash. Here's Andrea and her calf with the harness as a halter.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdOfJmIZwdE/UXYZ7y3kfbI/AAAAAAAAB2s/qIdYNJv1U2k/s1600/EverStuffRanch+Calf01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdOfJmIZwdE/UXYZ7y3kfbI/AAAAAAAAB2s/qIdYNJv1U2k/s400/EverStuffRanch+Calf01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />I had to pick him up to get him out of the pen. Then I stood there and played, "Be the tree." That means I stand there not moving and let him pull on me until he realizes it doesn't do any good. The first real pressure on his head and neck he flopped over on the ground. Not layed down, he just fell over. So I let him lay there. It took a minute or two before he decided that wasn't and fun and stood up again. We did the sand up, fall over thing a few times while just shook my head. It wasn't too long before he was up and running circles around me. He learned to walk with me without too much fight. We went out in the pasture on the long lead rope for him to run and buck a little. Tomorrow we'll try again and I'll get Scott to take some pictures.<br /><br /><u>Apache's turn was</u> next. Yes he already knows how to lead. He knows how to be rode too. Now that he's almost completely blind he needs to learn the verbal cues to help him keep his manners while walking next to a person on the ground. We did a lot of stopping after I said, "Whoa." I held my arm up every time from his totally blind side and let him bump his nose against it. He didn't like that too very much and is learning to stop when I say whoa.<br /><br />The big thing was walking just a step or two and whoa-ing coming in and out of the gate to the round pen. He knows the sides of the gate are right there and is very nervous about it. After the fifth time in and out he was standing there for more than a minuet in the gate and waiting for me to cluck to him to step forwards. We went out in the pasture and I let him eat some grass for a while as a reward.<br /><br />I lost one of the little red chicks Saturday night. It was lethargic when I got home from work Saturday. I tried getting it to drink some water, and put it in a small box under the heat lamp so the others wouldn't peck it to death. It was gone Sunday morning with Scott got home. I went back to Valley after work today and picked up three more. I didn't really pay attention when I was in there the other day to what kind of chicks I was getting other than the Creep Meets.<br /><br />I looked at the names today. I don't know what the little yellow smudged looking ones are, or the yellow with the black spot. The reds are Sagittas. They are a breed developed by Dunlap Hatchery here in Idaho.<br /><div style="background-color: #f5f7f9; font-family: verdana, geneva, lucida, 'lucida grande', arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 5px 20px 20px;"><div class="smallfont" style="font-size: 11px; margin-bottom: 2px;"><br /></div><table border="0" cellpadding="6" cellspacing="0" style="width: 100%px;"><tbody><tr><td class="alt2" style="background-color: #eef0f2; border: 1px inset; font-size: 10pt;">"The Sagitta is a dual purpose bird that is a cross between a Rhode Island Red, New Hampshire Red and Cornish Cross. They are a heavy, docile breed that will provide large eggs as well as a nice size bird on the table."</td></tr></tbody></table></div>I have five of them now. They are a slower growing bird than the Creepy Meats, and are good layers of large brown eggs from what I Can find on the net by people who have them. So I can put any roos in the freezer, and they are good egg layers. I can free range them and not worry about them like the Creep Meats. We'll see.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I had to switch from the hay I had in the bottom of the trough to shavings. I forgot to get hay when I got the chicks and had to wait till I got payed today to pick up the shavings. These things are the eatingest, poopingest creepy things ever. You have to really watch the food intake in the creep meats. They can grow too fast for their hearts and legs to keep up with. I take the food out around eight at night and put it back in in the morning. They SWARM frantically like they have been starving for weeks and they aren't barley a week old. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VELFsEM-EbI/UXYXiGB2BQI/AAAAAAAAB2E/h0SF3FaOBeA/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chicks5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VELFsEM-EbI/UXYXiGB2BQI/AAAAAAAAB2E/h0SF3FaOBeA/s320/EverstuffRanch+chicks5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EdEzryMFlT8/UXYXmBWqsqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/Fnh7TlnGfKc/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chicks6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EdEzryMFlT8/UXYXmBWqsqI/AAAAAAAAB2U/Fnh7TlnGfKc/s320/EverstuffRanch+chicks6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DGFrzHVnP9M/UXYXkr4KYsI/AAAAAAAAB2M/iwvcR_BLGjg/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chicks7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DGFrzHVnP9M/UXYXkr4KYsI/AAAAAAAAB2M/iwvcR_BLGjg/s320/EverstuffRanch+chicks7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Une2BZ1-TXk/UXYXmap2ymI/AAAAAAAAB2c/LM56_tyNl6w/s1600/EverstuffRanch+chicks8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Une2BZ1-TXk/UXYXmap2ymI/AAAAAAAAB2c/LM56_tyNl6w/s320/EverstuffRanch+chicks8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>None of the big girls feel like going broody yet. Everyday I count chickens hoping to see three and there be one in the box on eggs. Not yet. </div></div>Jacqueline Joneshttps://plus.google.com/111494223528773728055noreply@blogger.com3